


Spicy September Week Collection

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Swap, Begging, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, D/s Vibes, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Edging, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Over stimulation, Ritual Public Sex, Soft sex, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: The collected Spicy Week stories from my tumblr. Pairings and kinks vary by chapter, each one clearly marked. All fics the result of one or more requests. (Most of the tags above only apply for a single chapter, not the whole fic). Absolutely all of them are explicit.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 50
Kudos: 398





	1. Obikin - Edging/Begging

**Author's Note:**

> First entry for Spicy Week! Obikin established relationship, set during the Clone Wars. Includes edging, teasing, and begging. A little bit of bondage, not much.

Technically, Anakin supposed he should have been irritated that they’d been thrown into quarantine as soon as they set foot on Builverde. Technically, they were supposed to be meeting with representatives of the planet to discuss a treaty with the Republic. Technically, it was a waste of time to sit around for two days just to prove that they didn’t have any communicable diseases.

He  _ had  _ been angry at first, as the Builverdians led them, implacably, into a little domicile on the outside of their great city. The house was nice enough, he supposed. Certainly better than the accommodations on the  _ Peacemaker  _ or the  _ Negotiator _ . In fact, it looked like the Builverdians had gone out of their way to provide, at least, a nice place for visitors to stay during their forced downtime. But there was so much they needed to do, and--

And Anakin had turned to Obi-Wan, angry words on his lips, only to find Obi-Wan trying to hide a tremendous yawn behind one hand, standing there right inside the door with dark circles under his eyes and exhaustion radiating out of him.

Anakin’s protests died on his tongue, a sharp ache cutting through him. Perhaps two days in one place, with no one trying to kill them, wouldn’t be so bad. “Well,” he said, as the door shut behind them, “I suppose we should check this place out.”

The little house was well-appointed. There was even a kitchen, stocked with all kinds of food. There were windows overlooking the sea below. None of them would open - Anakin checked each one - and a little area full of couches and a holo projector.

There was also, he found, a bedroom. He found Obi-Wan leaning in the doorway, gazing at the bed, covered with creamy blankets and surrounded by windows. “There’s just the one,” Obi-Wan said, as Anakin stepped up behind him, sliding one hand over his hip. “I checked.”

“How unfortunate,” Anakin murmured, closing the last of the distance between them and bending to brush a kiss across Obi-Wan’s neck. “I guess we’ll just have to share.”

Obi-Wan snorted out a laugh, tilting his head to one side, so agreeable as Anakin slid his hand a little further forward, fingers brushing lower, enough to feel it when Obi-Wan sucked in a little inhale. Anakin’s cock stirred in response; just being so close to Obi-Wan and all alone had a tendency to get him hard.

It was, therefore, something of a disappointment when Obi-Wan yawned again, a moment later, before murmuring, radiating abashment, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Anakin snorted, shaking his head. They had two days, and he couldn’t, actually, remember the last time Obi-Wan had slept. “Come on,” he said, nudging Obi-Wan forward. “Let’s try this bed out, then.”

They managed to take off most of their clothes, before Obi-Wan dropped down onto the blankets with a heavy sigh. There were fading bruises over his skin, the stains of bacta over one hip. So many scars.

Anakin swallowed, throat getting tighter, and said, “You’re supposed to get under the blankets.”

Obi-Wan made a non-committal sound, eyes already closed. It wasn’t hard to get him to shift over, to pull him close and then arrange the blankets. Obi-Wan was deeply in dreams by the time Anakin snugged an arm around him, holding him in the strange bed, light streaming in around them.

Anakin joined him, moments later.

They slept for hours, woke up, ate. Anakin couldn’t recall the last time they’d been able to just… take their time over a meal. They’d both forgotten how, and bolted the food down in moments. Obi-Wan laughed, afterwards, cleaning up their plates and asking, with a stretch of his arms above his head, “Well, what shall we do now, then?”

Anakin looked over at him, leaned back in his chair, and considered the thrum of want in his gut that had not truly gone away since they’d entered the house. He said, mouth quirking up as Obi-Wan noticed his attention and flushed, “I have some ideas.”

“Oh, do you?” Obi-Wan asked, tilting his face up when Anakin stood and came around the table, bending to kiss him, soft and easy, drawing back after a moment and listening to Obi-Wan make a protesting sound.

“Come on,” Anakin said, dropping one more kiss onto his mouth, “I think I saw a  _ huge  _ tub, earlier.”

“A tub?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning. He felt full of want, through the Force, thrumming through it after a simple kiss. But, then, they generally didn’t have the chance to take their time. Their engagements were, out of necessity, brief and fierce most of the time.

That hadn’t stopped Anakin from considering… other options. He’d just not expected he’d have the chance to put any of his plans into action. But they had a day and a half to do nothing but stay in this house, and suddenly he had a surplus of ideas about how to spend that time.

“A tub,” Anakin confirmed, tugging Obi-Wan to his feet and making his way back through the sleeping chamber, into a finely appointed fresher. There was, as he’d recalled, a tub, along with a sonic shower. Anakin turned the tub on, absently, with the Force, considering that they’d both fit into it if they worked at it a little.

“You want to take a bath?” Obi-Wan asked, sounding somewhere between amused and puzzled. 

“Mhm.” Anakin listened to the water burble, turning his attention back to Obi-Wan, standing there in his undertunic and slacks, one eyebrow raised. “It’ll be nice,” he said. “Relaxing.” And he reached for Obi-Wan’s belt, fingers long grown familiar with how to undo all the little ties and clasps.

Obi-Wan shivered, just a little, when Anakin dropped the belt to the floor and pushed his tunic open. “I didn’t expect that you’d want to  _ relax _ ,” Obi-Wan said, softly, as Anakin ran hands up his chest, pushing the fabric off of his shoulders, enjoying the way it slid down his arms, pooling on the floor. Taking Obi-Wan out of all his clothes always left Anakin hard, aching.

“I’m full of surprises,” Anakin murmured back, looking Obi-Wan up and down. He was already starting to stain red across his shoulders, and Anakin hadn’t really even  _ touched  _ him yet. It was intoxicated, and Anakin couldn’t help but stepping forward, but pushing him against the cool, tiled wall and kissing him.

Obi-Wan groaned against his mouth, reaching up to thread fingers into his hair, his other hand tugging at Anakin’s tunic. Anakin shrugged out of the fabric, enjoying the slide of skin against skin, but reaching down and catching Obi-Wan’s wrist when Obi-Wan’s fingers trailed down his stomach.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, tugging, a little, against his grip, his emotions jumping in the Force in a way that snagged all of Anakin’s attention. He tightened his grip, experimentally, and Obi-Wan made a breathy little sound.

Anakin filed that away with all the other little things he’d learned about Obi-Wan, over the last year, and smiled. “Waters done,” he said, easing a step back. Obi-Wan blinked at him, still leaning against the wall, looking well-kissed, slacks doing nothing to disguise his enjoyment of the situation.

“Surely it can wait,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin flashed him a wider smile, turning off the water and shoving down his slacks. He watched Obi-Wan’s gaze slip down his body with a little flush of pride, and stepped into the tub.

“But the water is so nice now,” he said, and it  _ was _ , hot and soothing against his muscles as he sank down, leaning against the edge, the water lapping at his chest. “Come on, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stared for another moment, feeling puzzled and full of delicious hunger, before he shook his head. “If you’d like,” he said, pushing down his own slacks and, after a moment of frowning consideration, stepping into the tub. “I’m not sure we’re both going to fit.”

“Sure we are,” Anakin reassured, sliding a hand up Obi-Wan’s thigh. He curled his fingers around Obi-Wan’s hip and tugged, just a little. Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him, but sank down into the water, only making a brief noise of complaint when Anakin tugged him around, so that Obi-Wan’s back rested against his chest.

“There,” he said, keeping his right arm out of the water, running his left down Obi-Wan’s chest, “see? Perfect.”

“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, melting against him. Anakin nuzzled against his hair, enjoying the way Obi-Wan fitted against him, spreading his fingers and sliding his hand lower. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched and he - he tilted his hips up, just a bit, spread his thighs, and--

And, a few years ago, Anakin would have never  _ imagined  _ that Obi-Wan could be wanton, when he wanted to be. That he’d ask, with his body, for touch. Anakin’s cock throbbed, caught against Obi-Wan’s back, and he shifted to suck a kiss at Obi-Wan’s throat, fingers sliding down and onto Obi-Wan’s thigh, thumb just stroking the side of his cock.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice getting tighter. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you cleaned up?” Anakin suggested, hiding a smile against Obi-Wan’s skin. 

“Oh, really?” Obi-Wan asked, shifting against him, deliciously. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely sure,” Anakin said, glancing around for something to, actually, make his claims true and finding some washcloths and a soap that smelled, faintly, of citrus. He had to take his hand off Obi-Wan’s skin to grab them. 

He took Obi-Wan’s arm, once he had what he needed, and ran the cloth over the back of his knuckles, listening to Obi-Wan start, “Anakin, that’s--” Obi-Wan cut off, with a little shiver, as Anakin turned his hand, stroked his palm and up the inside of his arm. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Anakin asked, even as he felt the shift in Obi-Wan’s emotions, sudden calm and relaxation. Obi-Wan’s breath caught as Anakin continued his careful ministrations, and it made Anakin ache, sharp, under his ribs.

He’d realized, some time ago, that Obi-Wan melted at even the briefest overtures of someone caring for him, as though he had absolutely no defenses for it and did not know how to deal with it. Anakin pressed a kiss to his temple, as he slid the rag beneath the water, working steadily and thoroughly.

Obi-Wan made a punched out, surprised sound when Anakin reached his cock, head falling fully back against Anakin’s shoulder, his arm coming up so he could grip at Anakin’s hair with his wet fingers. He rocked up into the pressure, and Anakin hummed, smiling as he continued onward. 

“ _ Anakin _ ,” Obi-Wan rasped out, half-warning and half-puzzlement. 

“What?” Anakin murmured back, dragging the cloth down Obi-Wan’s leg and back up, feeling Obi-Wan’s breath catch.

“You know very well what,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin smiled, couldn’t not. He had to swallow a groan, a moment later, when Obi-Wan pointedly squirmed against him. He was hardly unaffected by their closeness, by the opportunity to just… touch. 

He shivered, feeling the edges of his control start to fray and grabbing them. “I’m just trying to be thorough,” he said, tugging on Obi-Wan. “Come on, I need to get your back.” Obi-Wan shifted in the water, all coiled strength as he turned, settling across Anakin’s legs, one eyebrow raised as Anakin slid the cloth down his back.

“I think,” Obi-Wan said, taking it from him, “that it’s your turn.” And Anakin’s gut got tighter as Obi-Wan dragged the cloth across his collarbone, out to the edge of his shoulder. He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, hands free to wander, siding over firm muscle and skirting over scars.

Anakin trailed his fingertips down Obi-Wan’s spine, over bones too close to the skin, past his hips and across the firm flesh of his ass. He could not help but slide his hand further, could not help but brush across Obi-Wan’s rim, thinking, suddenly, of the last time they’d managed to get intimate, the way it felt, sinking into Obi-Wan’s body, and--

Obi-Wan’s breath caught and he leaned a little closer, his hand sliding down Anakin’s chest. Anakin bit back a groan when Obi-Wan stroked across his cock and then dropped the rag, fingers curling around overheated flesh.

And it was so unbelievably good, Obi-Wan’s touch always was, but-- But they had time, and Anakin wasn’t, he realized, finished. He reached between them, catching Obi-Wan’s hand and tugging it aside, out of the water.

“What--” Obi-Wan started, sharp, and Anakin leaned away from the side of the tub to catch his mouth, tasting his hunger on the air.

Anakin murmured, against his mouth, “What’s this? Impatience? From General Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan nipped at his bottom lip, soothing it a moment later with a soft kiss. “Is this an exercise in patience, then?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, head tilted in challenge. “I think we both know how  _ that  _ will go.”

“I can be patient,” Anakin said, and dragged Obi-Wan into a harder kiss when he just smirked. He’d been  _ very  _ patient, waiting for Obi-Wan to catch a clue about their… relationship. Then again, in the end he’d had to take direct action to get them anywhere. So, maybe he hadn’t demonstrated excessive patience in that situation, but that was only because he’d never learned how not to fight for what he wanted.

And, oh, right now he wanted to just… take their time, in a way they never got to, usually. Obi-wan cast him a doubtful look, and Anakin curled a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him closer for another kiss, deep and slow, until Obi-Wan groaned and sank fully against him.

Anakin could not, actually, remember ever being able to just… kiss Obi-Wan, until his jaw started to ache and his mouth felt tender. He let his hands roam across Obi-Wan’s back, pleased when Obi-Wan draped arms across his shoulders, apparently content to exchange drugging, filthy kisses.

Obi-Wan made a thick sound when Anakin’s hands strayed down again, but he slid past hips, right to Obi-Wan’s thighs. It was enough to make Obi-Wan lean back, eying him, all flushed just from kissing. Obi-Wan asked, rough-voiced, “And how long are you planning to be patient, hm?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Anakin said, his own voice gone hoarse, not unaffected by Obi-Wan straddling his hips, by the press of warm skin against his cock and the feel of Obi-Wan’s cock against his stomach. He dragged a hand back up Obi-Wan’s leg, fingers curling in and back, only a brief touch before he walked his fingers back up Obi-Wan’s spine. He said, with the kind of inspiration he sometimes got on a battlefield, “Until you’re begging for it.”

Obi-Wan snorted at him, that eyebrow lifting again. “I’m not in the habit of begging,” he said, which Anakin knew well enough. 

He’d mostly been joking, anyway. Mostly. He shrugged, shifting to slide their cocks together, and Obi-Wan shivered. Anakin smiled at him, helplessly, brushing a softer kiss against his mouth. He said, “Relax. Let’s just… take our time.”

Obi-Wan hummed, murmuring, too soon later, “We can take as much time as you like. But not in here. The water’s getting cold.”

Anakin hadn’t really noticed the water temperature, but he realized, after a moment, that Obi-Wan was correct. He groaned in protest when Obi-Wan rose, water running down his body, his cock hard between his legs, and, as much as Anakin hated that he was leaving, he did love watching Obi-Wan go.

“You’re catching flies,” Obi-Wan said, with a little grin, grabbing a towel.

Anakin shut his mouth, shook himself, and pulled the drain on the tub before climbing out. “Here,” he said, “let me,” and held out a hand for the towel.

Obi-Wan looked startled, all wide eyes, saying, “Anakin, that’s, you don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Anakin said, and plucked it from unresisting fingers. He left Obi-Wan’s hair a mess, but took care over the bruises stained into Obi-Wan’s skin, took his time, and, when he finished, Obi-Wan was just watching him, breathing shakily.

Anakin’s skin had mostly air-dried, in the interim. He scrubbed the towel across his hair and tossed it down, curling an arm around Obi-Wan and kissing his soft, welcoming mouth. He nudged Obi-Wan until he eased back one step, and then another, back pressing against the tiled wall.

Anakin rested his forearm beside Obi-Wan’s head, kissing him slow. Deep. He found his way to Obi-Wan’s neck, after a moment, the skin all flushed and warm. Obi-Wan made the  _ best  _ sounds, when Anakin sucked on his skin, just so.

Obi-Wan  _ also _ slid a hand down between them, fingers certain and sure around Anakin’s cock. Anakin groaned, reaching to grab his wrist, dragging his arm out to the side and chiding, “Patience.”

Obi-Wan tugged against his grip, testing, the leather of Anakin’s glove so dark against his pale skin. The contrast was striking. Obi-Wan panted, voice still so thick, “Anakin,” and Anakin could feel his enjoyment, slipping free of Obi-Wan’s usual careful control, curling up around him.

He felt it coming, when Obi-Wan slid his other hand down, and caught him, dragging his wrists together, feeling Obi-Wan’s breath catch when he curled mechanical fingers around both of his wrists, pushing his arms flat to the wall over his head.

“Okay?” Anakin asked, feeling breathless himself.  _ This  _ was something they’d done before, a few times. Obi-Wan  _ liked  _ it, when Anakin held him in place, liked hands pushing his hips against the wall when Anakin sucked his cock, liked a palm in the middle of his shoulder blades, when Anakin fucked him, liked fingers in his hair, tight, when he licked across Anakin’s dick.

Anakin knew he liked it as well. Sometimes he worried he might like it  _ too _ much. And so he always made himself ask, instead of just - just doing what he wanted. Obi-Wan jerked out a nod and panted, “Yes, Anakin.”

And so Anakin tightened his grip, just a little, paying attention to the pressure sensors even as he returned his attentions to Obi-Wan’s neck. He took his time, mapping soft skin with his lips, out towards Obi-Wan’s shoulder, placing a kiss on each freckle in the little constellation right above his collarbone.

He felt...in no hurry at all, despite the ache of his cock. He liked pulling different noises from Obi-Wan’s throat, liked the way he squirmed around. He only drew up short half-way down Obi-Wan’s chest, when he realized he couldn’t keep his grip anymore. “A conundrum,” Obi-Wan panted, apparently well aware of the situation.

Anakin nipped at the soft skin across his ribs, listened to him make an indignant noise, and released his grip, even as he slid to his knees. Obi-Wan made a thick sound, hands going to Anakin’s hair, immediately, fingers threading through as Anakin pressed a kiss to his hip.

Obi-Wan’s stomach jumped when Anakin kissed across his skin. ObI-Wan made a little, sweet sound when Anakin exhaled across his cock, and then took his mouth away. He brushed a kiss across Obi-Wan’s hip, instead.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted, tilting his hips up, and Anakin slid down to kiss along the inside of his thigh, the skin there so soft and delicate.

Obi-Wan tugged at his hair, just a little, and Anakin nipped at that delicate skin, chiding. He heard Obi-Wan knock his head back against the wall, breathing a curse into the air, and grinned. He shifted, pushing a hand against Obi-Wan’s stomach to keep him still, and finally, licking softly across the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan swore again, breathier, even as Anakin took his mouth away. “Like that?” he asked.

“You know I do,” Obi-Wan panted out, groaning when Anakin licked across him again, sliding his lips just over the head of Obi-Wan’s cock. He’d gotten used to working Obi-Wan over hard and fast, to hurrying, because they never knew when they’d be needed. There was always something to do, and so little of it related to  _ pleasure _ . 

But there was nothing for him to do, right at that moment, other than bob his head, take his time, glancing up at Obi-Wan to find him looking stunned. Anakin’s mouth crooked, even full, and Obi-Wan swore again. Anakin took his time, lingered, eventually going deeper, until Obi-Wan’s breathing changed and--

And he slid off, slowly, looking up at Obi-Wan the entire time.

Obi-Wan made a strangled sound, flushed down his chest, teetering right there on the edge of orgasm. He was beautiful like that, Anakin considered, wound tight, cock curved up towards his stomach, all wet from Anakin’s mouth, eyes dazed and pupils blown so wide.

He groaned something unintelligible when Anakin rose to his feet, stepping close enough that Obi-Wan’s cock pressed against his hip, kissing Obi-Wan there, against the wall, rutting against him, for just a moment, until Obi-Wan’s breath got fast and hitched, and he thought about making Obi-Wan come, right there, across both of them, about joining him - he was so close to the edge, himself, hardly unaffected - but…

But he made himself step back, pulling Obi-Wan along. There were other things he wanted more, at the moment.

“I hear,” he said, nudging Obi-Wan backwards - his chest ached with how willingly Obi-Wan moved with him, without even turning to look over his shoulder, trusting Anakin to get them where they were going, “there’s just this one bed.” He stretched out a hand as they went, satisfied when, a moment later, their bottle of lubricant slapped into his palm.

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, and looked beautiful when Anakin gave him a final nudge, toppling him down onto the mattress. He pushed up onto his elbows, deliciously flushed, still breathing hard. “At least it’s big enough.”

“Mm,” Anakin said, barely aware of what he’d said, caught up with just  _ looking _ . He put a knee on the mattress, crawled over Obi-Wan and into another kiss, long and lingering before he sat back, considering his options. 

Anakin dropped his spoils on the bed as he thought, the lube rolling down towards Obi-Wan’s hip. Obi-Wan lifted it, and said, “Oh, so you  _ are  _ planning to fuck me at some point?”

“I told you I was going to,” Anakin said, taking it back, and dropping a kiss onto his mouth. “You know exactly what to do, when you want me to,” he added, and felt Obi-Wan shiver. Anakin sucked on his bottom lip, lightly, before gripping his shoulder and nudging.

Obi-Wan agreeably rolled, settling against the sheets with a look over his shoulder. Anakin flashed him a grin, sprawling out beside him. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck, felt him shiver. He trailed his fingers down Obi-Wan’s arm, watching gooseflesh rise in the wake of his touch.

Obi-Wan made a soft little sound as Anakin kissed down his spine, hands wandering where he liked, enjoying all the skin bared to him and the way Obi-Wan’s hips were moving, little twitches against the sheets. He found he quite liked the thought of Obi-Wan dragging his cock back and forth across the soft fabric, and gripped at the lubricant.

There was no resistance in Obi-Wan when Anakin ran a hand down his thigh, pushing his leg out to one side. He ran the pads of his fingers back up, Obi-Wan tilting his hips back,  _ inviting _ . Anakin bit back the sound he wanted to make, pushing up a little because he wanted to  _ see _ as he poured a bit of lubricant over his fingers, trailing a brief touch across soft, warm flesh.

Obi-Wan made a bitten off sound, trying to shift back into the touch, and Anakin said, “Patience,” and put his right hand on Obi-Wan’s lower back, pushing  _ down _ . 

“Force,” Obi-Wan gritted back at him, sweat already starting to bead up on his back, and Anakin grinned, delighted, trailing teasing touches and ignoring the throbbing ache in his own cock. He decided, finally, to press a single finger inside, and listened to Obi-Wan groan.

Obi-Wan’s fingers were already curled up in the blankets, he noted, with a sharp little thrill. His shoulders were tensed, red creeping down from his neck. Anakin crooked his finger - watching Obi-Wan try to shift around, listening to him groan again.

“I love touching you like this,” Anakin said, moving his hand slowly, voice rough with fresh discovery. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever touched Obi-Wan like  _ this _ , before. They always had to hurry, so much. He’d never taken the time to just… work Obi-Wan open, slow and easy, unable to resist adding another finger, awed by the way Obi-Wan just took it.

Obi-Wan panted in reply, and said, “Anakin, that’s…” 

“That’s what?” Anakin asked, twisting his wrist just so and watching Obi-Wan jolt all over. “Good?” He suggested, leaning over enough to brush a kiss to his back, keeping his fingers where they were, just rubbing. “Could you come like this?” he asked, imagining Obi-Wan spilling with his cock trapped between his stomach and the bed, imagining--

“ _ Yes _ ,” Obi-Wan gritted out, gasping, and Anakin had to sink teeth into his bottom lip, hard, at the effect it had on him. He fought for control, slid his fingers  _ out _ , and listened to Obi-Wan make a sharp, distressed sound. “Anakin, what--”

“Patience,” Anakin said, sweetly, shifting around, pushing Obi-Wan’s other leg where he wanted it, settling between his thighs. He knew, very well, he could just… stretch forward and push in, work Obi-Wan the rest of the way open with his cock. He’d fucked Obi-Wan with  _ less  _ preparation before, certainly, both of them desperate after a fight, and, Force damn him, but he’d always liked the way Obi-Wan moved with a bit of extra care the following day, but--

But he didn’t want to do that, not at the moment. 

Instead, he put his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips, coaxing him up to his knees, leaning forward to press kisses across his shoulders and back. He slid a hand around Obi-Wan’s side, trailed fingers over his cock, and listened to Obi-Wan moan. He murmured, “Force, you really want to come, don’t you?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Obi-Wan gasped, and made a sharp little sound when Anakin took his hand away again. Anakin decided not to mention how much  _ he  _ wanted to come, his gut all full of hot desire. He just moved closer, cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s hip as he slid his hand around again.

He sank three fingers inside, all at once, and Obi-Wan cried out, hips shifting like he intended to fuck himself on Anakin’s hand and-- And Anakin slung his other arm across Obi-Wan’s hips, gripping tight, tsking. “Be patient,” he said, shocked by how thick his voice had gotten, by the way Obi-Wan moaned with each curl of his fingers.

He went slow, purposeful.  _ Played _ , enjoying the way Obi-Wan shifted restlessly, the sounds he made, the way he held his breath as he got closer, the way he cried out when Anakin drew his fingers away, once more, leaving him right on the edge.

Anakin knew he was leaving wet smears across the back of Obi-Wan’s legs. He desperately wanted to fuck him, but-- But more than that, he wanted to drag just the pads of his fingertips across Obi-Wan’s reddened rim, wanted to lazily sink in again, wondering how close he could get Obi-Wan to coming before he pulled back, wondering--

“ _ Force _ , ah,” Obi-Wan gasped, all tension as his voice cracked, “ _ please _ , please, Anakin--”

And Anakin had not, really, thought he’d actually  _ get Obi-Wan to beg _ . He’d just--the idea had slipped from his mouth, teasing more than anything. He’d seen Obi-Wan withstand torture for days without so much as a request for the briefest mercy. 

He froze, brain going offline, cock twitching even as his chest ached, and Obi-Wan continued, words tumbling out of him, “ _ Please _ , Force, kriffing fuck me, please, Anakin, I--”

And, oh, Anakin barely managed not to come there, like that, listening to Obi-Wan beg to get fucked. He shook himself, dragging his fingers out, all his words strangled off in his throat. Force, but Obi-Wan was begging for him and he found the idea of not giving Obi-Wan exactly what he wanted was just… Inconceivable.

“Please--” Obi-Wan cut off, with a delightful little cry, when Anakin gripped his hips with both hands and fucked into him, hard. He had no control left for anything but that, driving in with one stroke, Obi-Wan blurting, “Yes, Anakin, please--”

And, Force, but Anakin needed to give him whatever he wanted, everything he wanted, all of it. He shifted his angle, looking for the exact spot that made Obi-Wan cry out sharply, and then driving into him, over and over, delighting in each punched out cry and groan it got him, in Obi-Wan’s increasingly garbled pleas.

He slid a hand down and around, fingers brushing up the underside of Obi-Wan’s cock on an inward thrust, and Obi-Wan cried out, sharp, signature on the Force roughly flaring with pleasure and relief as he fell over that edge, so long denied.

Anakin fucked him through it, not gentling his strokes, each shove inward getting a new sound, as Obi-Wan’s shoulders trembled, as he dropped his head between his arms, sweat sliding down his spine, his skin all flushed to red, and he felt amazing, hot and tight and--

And Anakin slumped forward, when he came, barely managing to catch himself on one arm, breathing like a bellows. He tingled, all over, pleasure singing on each nerve, wanting nothing more than to stay exactly where he was for the rest of eternity, if possible.

He swallowed, flexing his hand around Obi-Wan’s hip and asking, as his thoughts came back, “Are you--are you alright?”

The first sound Obi-Wan made wasn’t a word, but he nodded, and, a beat later managed to rasp out, “Yes.”

Relief shot through Anakin, sharp and sweet. He’d… quite liked what they’d just done. He slumped a little closer, close enough to brush kisses across Obi-Wan’s shoulders, to murmur, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Obi-Wan snorted, just a little, and pushed with one arm, tumbling them both to the side. The change in position suited Anakin well enough, it let him pull Obi-Wan fully back against his chest, let him scatter kisses across Obi-Wan’s neck.

“I…” Anakin said, after a moment, a bit unnerved by Obi-Wan’s continued quiet. He nudged at Obi-Wan through the Force, and found him… settled, almost. Tired, certainly, but at least in a pleasant way. Suffused with pleasure, thoughts all still. “You know, I’ll always try to give you what you want,” he finished, finally, feeling like he needed to say  _ something _ .

It must have been the right thing, because Obi-Wan’s emotions went all soft and warm. He turned his head, reached down and caught Anakin’s hand. He was smiling, soft and easy, when he said, “I know.”

And Anakin, chest overfull, all at once, figured they still had - at least - around a day and a half for him to prove it.


	2. Obikin - Lingerie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for two requests for lingerie smut. Obikin in an established relationship, in an AU where Palpatine died and the war ended without, you know, all the murder.

Obi-Wan had not meant to fall asleep after meditating, much less on the couch when his bed was a scant handful of feet away. Still, they were all still on the road to recovery after the end of the war. He had not realized he was so tired when he sat down to review more notes from the latest Senate session, and would have, likely, slept through dinner had not a strange sound from the door awoken him.

He cracked his eyes open, taking in the glow of late afternoon light through his quarters. There was warm light flooding in through his open door, as well, shining past a familiar figure.

Obi-Wan stretched a bit, his meditation tunic riding up with the movement - there was an ache in his back from how he’d laid - and smiled. He said, “Anakin, I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

“My trip ended early,” Anakin said, his tone strange and tense as he stepped into the room, the door shutting at his back. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and dropped it to the floor without looking. He was just… staring.

“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, pushing to sit up, tugging his thin tunic to order. Coruscant was going through the hottest summer he could remember and even the Temple’s massive cooling system was not quite up to the task. It had been warm inside his rooms, bordering on hot, for weeks. “Well, I haven’t had dinner yet, if you want to--”

“What are you wearing?” Anakin asked, crossing the room and hesitating in front of him, his eyes dark in the afternoon light.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him, glancing down at himself. He shifted, just a little, and said, “My clothes…?”

Anakin made a sharp little sound and asked, “What else?”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to flush, fought with his expression and knew he won. He had long years of experience bluffing, after all. He should have expected trouble when his shirt rode up, and asked, with all the innocence he could muster, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Anakin put a knee beside his hip on the couch, reached out, grabbed the hem of Obi-Wan’s tunic, and lifted. Obi-Wan heard his breath catch and braced for the inevitable teasing. He’d really hoped to have finished with Luminara’s foolish prank  _ before  _ Anakin got back.

“I mean this,” Anakin said, his voice gone, abruptly, lower, as he trailed the fingers of his other hand down across Obi-Wan’s stomach, brushing across the lacy straps rising above the waistband of his leggings.

“Oh, that,” Obi-Wan said, determined to play the entire situation off if at all possible. He had no desire to be teased about it for the rest of both of their lives. “I’m afraid I lost a foolish wager with Luminara and as a result--”

“ _ What _ ?” Anakin asked, gaze snapping up to meet Obi-Wan’s, finally. “It’s -- you’re wearing lingerie as part of a  _ bet _ ?” He felt both relieved and confused. Obi-Wan wondered if he realized that he was slowly sweeping his thumb back and forth across the lace.

Obi-Wan shrugged, shivering a little. He’d found the lace annoying, for the most part. But something about the touch of skin through it was… making him feel warmer under his skin. Or perhaps that was just Anakin’s closeness, after a few weeks apart. “Why else would I be wearing it?” he asked.

“I don’t…” Anakin looked to the side, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He swallowed, hard. “I thought, maybe, you were… you know. Wearing it for someone. Someone else.”

For a moment Obi-Wan could only stare at him, chest aching sharply, before he shook his head and leaned away from the couch, sliding his hand to cup Anakin’s jaw, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not wearing it for anyone,” he said. “And there  _ is  _ no one else, Anakin. I don’t want anyone but you, I hope you--”

Anakin made a hungry sound, surging forward, and Obi-Wan found himself pressed back against the couch. Anakin kissed him, properly, pushing closer, desire overspilling the edges of his control. And this was, in fact, far more of the reunion that Obi-Wan had expected. He groaned, threading fingers into Anakin’s hair, pulling him closer.

He managed to find his thoughts after a moment, as Anakin moved on to sucking kisses to his throat, rasping, “It’s terribly uncomfortable, really. Perhaps you’d be interested in helping me take it off?”

Anakin went still for a moment, groaning, and then his hands were on the hem of Obi-Wan’s shirt, tugging it up and off, and freezing, as he got a look at the… contraption beneath. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to call it, really. The entire thing was lace and straps, all connected, somehow, to a little ring of metal at his sternum.

Anakin, staring at it, dark-eyed, demanded, “What the kriff kind of bet did you have with Luminara?”

“You know,” Obi-Wan said, because he preferred not to say, really. He heaved a sigh and added, “Look, go ahead and laugh, if you must.”

Anakin sucked in a breath and then he was kissing Obi-Wan again, hard and deep, grabbing Obi-Wan’s hand and dragging it down, pressing Obi-Wan’s palm to - to his cock. Obi-Wan made a surprised sound, touching him through his slacks, the hard length of him. Anakin panted, against his mouth, “Does it  _ seem  _ like I’m laughing?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped back, because he’d expected, honestly, amusement. Probably some less-than-gentle teasing. But Anakin only felt like… hot want, shoving at him until he fell sideways across the cushions, mouth at Obi-Wan’s collarbone and slipping lower as he yanked and tugged at Obi-Wan’s leggings.

“We -- the bed is  _ right there _ ,” Obi-Wan rasped, shivering as Anakin caught one of the straps of the ridiculous… thing in his mouth, and then let it go, snapping against his skin. “We can just--”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Anakin said, roughly, breath hot through the lace across Obi-Wan’s skin, sucking a kiss right through the fabric, and, oh--

It was a different sensation, rough and soft all at once, a rasp of pressure disappearing as Anakin tossed his leggings aside and shifted up to just… look at him. Anakin was breathing hard, hair mussed, tunic hanging open. His gaze blazed a trail down Obi-Wan’s body, across dark lace and the, frankly, insufficient wisps of fabric currently serving as negligee. 

“Force,” Anakin panted, sliding his palm up Obi-Wan’s thigh, until his thumb brushed the lacy little thing over Obi-Wan’s cock. It had fitted decently earlier, but wasn’t currently up to the task. The lace clung to his cock, making him feel hyper-sensitive as Anakin gritted out, “You look like a kriffing picture.”

Obi-Wan meant to ask what kind of pictures Anakin had possibly been looking at, though he knew well enough that some of the troopers had gotten… more than a bit explicit with the materials they circulated during the war; Hardcase had nearly had a stroke when Obi-Wan accidentally discovered his stash, though some of the images were certainly a good likeness, Obi-Wan could admit, even if they misplaced the freckles, and-- And he got distracted when Anakin ground out, “I want to just… make a mess of you.”

The words hit him below his gut, made his cock twitch, helplessly, and he reached up to grab Anakin’s shoulders, hauling him down, groaning, “Do it, then.”

Anakin made a low, hungry sound, and suddenly his hands were everywhere, his mouth sliding across Obi-Wan’s ribs. He nipped at the edge of the lace again, fingers sliding across the little wisps caught here and there, electrifying.

Obi-Wan groaned aloud when Anakin kissed down his stomach, exhaling hot over the head of his cock. He expected, for some reason, that Anakin would pull the lace aside and perhaps -- But Anakin just - just licked across the lace, heat transferring so easily through the thin fabric, wet heat and the rough-soft sensation of the lace across his skin. 

Obi-Wan curled fingers into Anakin’s hair, panting as Anakin mouthed down the underside of his cock, making wet, hungry sounds, sloppy in a way he usually wasn’t and-- And Obi-Wan’s spine bowed quite without intention as Anakin hooked a finger into the lace and tugged it to one side, the edge biting against his skin, the rest of it pulled tighter against his cock. 

“What--” Obi-Wan started, when Anakin lifted his mouth away for a moment. He curled his shoulders up, trying to see what was going on, and watched Anakin suck briefly on two of his fingers, mouth wet and red. “ _ Force-- _ ” Obi-Wan dropped his head back down, heat flowing through his body as Anakin sucked the head of his cock through the lace and - and slid his wet fingers back.

They had plenty of lubricant in the bedroom. That was, apparently, too far for Anakin at the moment, and something about the desperation, the need of it, made Obi-Wan’s cock jerk, made his gut get tighter and his pulse faster.

The push into his body burned, just a little, but he didn’t - Anakin knew well enough he didn’t mind  _ that _ , not at all. He liked feeling the stretch, liked the slide of knuckles catching at him, strong and sure and implacable. 

Anakin appeared to be in no mood to play around. He crooked his fingers, knowing, and sucked when Obi-Wan jolted against him, crying out. Obi-Wan was aware, through the haze of his own pleasure, of Anakin’s other hand moving between his own legs. And there was something delirious intoxicating about Anakin needing to touch himself, about the hot wetness of his mouth, and the demanding movement of his fingers.

And, layered on top of all of that, the sensation of the lace, clinging to his skin, constant pressure and sensation. 

Obi-Wan clung to the back of the couch with one hand, kept his other anchored in Anakin’s hair, and it had been weeks since they touched. Anakin groaned against his cock, brushed a third finger against Obi-Wan’s rim, and Obi-wan let out a punchy cry, because three with only spit was--

Was on the edge of too much, grounding him into his skin, into the raw beauty of what they were doing. He barely heard Anakin rasping, “Come on, come on, give it up for me.”

Obi-Wan cried out, harsh, giving in to the sensation, the pleasure, making a mess all over the inside of the silly negligee, or adding to the mess Anakin had already made. Anakin tore another sound out of him when he dragged his fingers free, and Obi-Wan would have been indignant, if not for the expression of wild hunger on Anakin’s face as he shifted up onto his knees, bracing one hand by Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the other--

The other stroking his own cock, brutal, short thrusts as he stared down, just - just  _ looking _ , his red bottom lip caught by his teeth, his eyes dark and intent. “Fuck,” Anakin ground out, gutteral, when he came, only moments later, come splattering across the lace and Obi-Wan’s stomach. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he repeated, dropping his head, finally, and taking a kiss.

Obi-Wan curled a hand around the back of his neck, pleasure still beating through his body with his pulse, and murmured, “Welcome home.”

Anakin huffed a little laugh against his mouth, smearing a hand through the mess across Obi-Wan’s stomach. “I suppose I should get cleaned up,” Obi-Wan said, nudging at Anakin’s shoulder, preparing to roll off of the couch, and Anakin made a dark, protesting sound, pushing him back down.

“Oh,” Anakin said, voice warm and rough, breath sliding across Obi-Wan’s skin, dark as a promise, “no, you’re not going  _ anywhere _ .”


	3. Like Real People Do Snippet (Anakin/Ben)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt involving Ben calling Anakin "sir" in bed, since they both enjoyed that. Set far after the end of LRPD.

Anakin was never going to get tired of kissing Ben. He didn’t see how such a thing would ever be possible as they stumbled out of the fresher and over to the bed that was - at least for the night - theirs. He walked backwards, because it was far more important to keep his full attention on Ben than it was to turn and look where he was going.

“Force,” he panted, keeping a grip on Ben’s bare hip with his left hand - always careful not to squeeze too tightly - and sliding his right into Ben’s still-damp hair. “Your  _ mouth _ ,” he added, because Ben kissed like he meant to start something, no, like he meant to  _ finish  _ something.

“What about my mouth?” Ben asked, low and quiet, voice like a promise, nudging Anakin another step backwards, towards the waiting mattress. He was all warm skin, still wet because drying off hadn’t seemed important, really, not with both of them hard and aching for it.

Anakin had wanted to get his hands on Ben since he’d neatly taken out a kriffing slaver ship on his own, almost two hours ago. They’d been nothing but hands, the slide of skin on skin, in the fresher, and now Ben was sucking on his bottom lip, pointedly grinding against him.

Anakin gripped him a little tighter, and ground out, “It’s amazing.”

“Mm,” Ben said, mouth crooking against Anakin’s lips before he shifted, nipping at Anakin’s jaw, back towards his throat. “And what should I do with it?” He sucked at Anakin’s pulse point, and Anakin sucked in a breath, suggestions rising to his lips unbidden.

One suggestion by far outweighed all the rest and he gritted out, “You should put it on my cock.”

Ben exhaled harshly against his skin, his voice thick and wrecked when he said, “Yes, sir.” And Anakin barely felt the bite Ben left at his collarbone on his way to his knees. He - Force, but Ben never called him “sir” anymore in the field. They were so far beyond all that, on their own out in the Rim, but--

But his cock throbbed at the way Ben said it and at the sight of Ben there before him, one hand braced on his thigh for balance, the other curling around the base of his cock, as he leaned forward. Ben looked up through his eyelashes, eyes dark and hungry, when he licked across the head of Anakin’s cock.

Anakin’s breath caught in the back of his throat as Ben licked over his skin, closed his lips over the head and slid down, bobbing his head, tongue curled just so, and--

“Like that?” Ben asked, pulling off with an innocent smile that hit Anakin in the bottom of his stomach. His mouth was already getting red, bottom lip shiny wet. And Anakin wanted --

“Yes,” he gritted out, sliding his fingers into Ben’s hair, his gut tightening at the way Ben’s cheeks stained redder, the way his pupils expanded, “just like that.” He tugged, and Ben groaned, mouth hot and wet as he slid forward.

Anakin reached his other hand out, braced his palm on the wall, as Ben sucked and swallowed and--and the noises he made were delicious, wet and soft. Messy. “Force,” Anakin gritted out, holding himself stil, letting Ben set his own pace, gasping when Ben curled fingers below his mouth, stroking as he slid his mouth up and down.

He broke, eventually, like he’d known he would, unable to keep his hips still. He pushed forward, rocking into Ben’s hot mouth, and Ben groaned, muffled. Anakin bit back a curse, fucking in again - shallow - and Ben leaned his head back against Anakin’s hand, trusting, willing, and--

And Anakin could feel how much Ben enjoyed it, Ben was never closed-off with his emotions when they did this, let his feelings overflow, making soft, wet sounds with each thrust, looking up, again, his eyes clear and so blue and--

“Kriffing hell,” Anakin panted, body thrumming all over with pleasure, and he wanted to stretch the moment as long as possible, wanted Ben’s mouth always around him, Ben’s hair tangled around his fingers, Ben looking up at him like he was the sun and--

And Ben swallowed, around him, when he lost the fight with his self-control, cock pulsing with relief and heady pleasure. Ben slid off, slowly, and pressed a kiss to his hip, and another, and made a shivery, surprised sound when Anakin went to his knees. 

Abruptly, he needed to kiss Ben, needed to put an arm around him and hold him tight, and the bed was only a few feet away, but they didn’t make it, sprawling out there on the floor, instead, tangling together.


	4. Various Applications of Salves and Oils Follow-Up (Obikin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to “Various Applications of Salves and Oils,” aka the Social Lubricant fic. The prompt involved revisiting the nipple ring Obi-Wan picked up in that fic. In addition to piercings, there’s some dirty talk here and a bit of breathplay (it happened accidentally, completely unplanned). :D

Sometimes, Obi-Wan tried to figure out exactly how they ended up in the situations they got into. If asked, point blank, what steps he had taken to end up in a very finely appointed room, with Anakin standing at his back, breath sliding hot across his neck, he would have been hard pressed to name them.

It had definitely been something to do with the fine gala they were supposed to be attending in less than an hour. It likely had something else to do with the, well, the traditional garb they’d been given to wear. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan managed to pant out, because they were supposed to be getting  _ dressed _ , but Anakin had gotten distracted somewhere around the time he’d discovered the little golden chain amongst the soft fabric. 

Anakin had lifted it with careful hands and been ever-so-careful as he connected it from the ring to the little circlet Obi-Wan had been given for his neck, thumb brushing over skin as the metal settled against Obi-Wan’s skin, and, really, it had been that moment where they got…off-track.

There’d only been one chain, but, then, Obi-Wan supposed that made sense. The Julops were perfectly capable of seeing right through clothing; perhaps that was why they saw no reason for their guests to wear much of it. They’d know Anakin had nothing to… use the chain with, whereas Obi-Wan…

Was dropping his head back on Anakin’s shoulder, as Anakin tugged, again, at the ring through his skin. Obi-Wan groaned, already sensitive and aching, because Anakin had dipped his mouth down, first, had pressed biting kisses to his chest, teeth closing on metal, tongue curling against skin.

Obi-Wan had left the nipple ring on a whim, and was glad he had, as Anakin hooked a finger around the chain, carefully connected to the little collar around his throat, and a jolt went through him, straight down to his gut and lower, to his rapidly hardening cock.

“You’re supposed to be helping me get ready,” Obi-Wan pointed out, aware that the raspiness of his voice sounded less than convincing. Anakin  _ had  _ helped, earlier, had clasped the collar at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck, where he could not quite reach.

“We’ll be ready in time,” Anakin said, finger running up the length of the chain, fingers curling, warm, over the leather strip around Obi-Wan’s throat.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” Obi-Wan said, fighting a losing battle with remaining focused. It was very difficult, with Anakin pressed close against his back, cock trapped between them, hard. As though to make things more difficult, Anakin ground against him, purposeful.

Anakin hummed, kissing behind his ear, his other hand sliding around Obi-Wan’s hip, past the waistband of the flowing pants he’d been given to wear. “We just have to hurry,” Anakin said, leather gloved fingers wrapping around Obi-Wan’s cock, bringing him the rest of the way to hard all at once.

“Force,” Obi-Wan gritted out, as Anakin tightened his grip at Obi-Wan’s throat, just a little, just enough that Obi-Wan felt his pulse beating against Anakin’s fingers, stunningly aware of just how fast his heart was beating. Anakin crooked his fingers, the ones he’d wrapped around the chain, tugging on Obi-Wan’s nipple and sending a lightning bolt of sensation through Obi-Wan’s nerves.

“I love seeing you like this,” Anakin rasped, voice low, breath a whisper across Obi-Wan’s skin. He nipped at the soft skin below Obi-Wan’s ear, so close to his fingers. Obi-Wan squirmed, always a bit uncomfortable when Anakin made such statements, and Anakin tightened his grip again, drawing a gasp from his throat. “ _ Everyone’s _ going to see you like this.”

And there was something darker in his tone. He had frowned at the sight of the shirt Obi-Wan was expected to wear. The silky fabric veed down past Obi-Wan’s navel, with enough fabric to billow open and show everyone… anything they wished to see. Which would, Obi-Wan realized with a little lurch of his gut, include the marks Anakin had left across his chest.

“They’re going to have more to see,” Obi-Wan panting, gasping as Anakin shifted his grip, his other hand still curled around Obi-Wan’s cock, stroking him fast and relentless. “If you keep this up.”

Anakin made a sound - almost hurt - and rocked against him, cock a burning line of heat against his back. “Good,” Anakin ground out, as though he were unbothered by the fact that he was going to leave marks, leave Obi-Wan’s flesh reddened and tender, signs of what they’d done, scattered across his skin.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, gripping at his arm, more for balance than anything else. He was starting to feel less than stable, his pulse beating against his cheeks, each inhale a reminder, a jolt of sharp sensation down through his spine, and, oh, he was learning all kinds of new things about himself. “I--”

“I’ve got you,” Anakin murmured, nipping at his skin, adjusting his grip, pulling the chain tighter, tight enough that Obi-Wan groaned, arching his back, trying to relieve a little of the pressure. “Force,” Anakin swore, grinding against him, the position all but shoving them together, lewdly, and-- “I’m going to fuck you, just like this, just--”

Obi-Wan came with a sharp, surprised sound, distantly worried about making a mess on his ceremonial pants. It was hard to worry about that when Anakin was swearing again, nudging him forward a few steps, until Obi-Wan could reach out his hands and brace on the wall, holding himself up as Anakin tugged at his slacks and--

And the bells calling them to their meeting with the planet’s leadership started ringing.

Anakin made a strangled, frustrated sound, his hand closed on Obi-Wan’s hip, the burning head of his cock bumping Obi-Wan’s skin. “I told you,” Obi-Wan rasped, still tingling all over with pleasure, “that we weren’t going to have enough time.”

Anakin groaned, dropping his forehead to Obi-Wan’s shoulder for just a moment, before he straightened, releasing his grip with a final tug on the chain. “That’s alright,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, with a final slide of his fingers across Obi-Wan’s skin. “I can wait, if I have to.”


	5. Obikin - Age/Role Swap AU - Overstimulation  (Dark, Dub-con)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An age-swap request. This shifted the most as I was working on it. It is TECHNICALLY about recently knighted Obi-Wan, but their relationship started before that. Warnings for power imbalance, past/current (very) dubious consent, and Anakin just… really being shady. Also, Obi-Wan is tipsy in this fic. There's over-stimulation in this fic.
> 
> Anakin is much darker than I usually write him in this fic, if that’s not what you’re looking for. Dead dove, do not eat, etc. This led to some very extensive head-canoning about the additional manipulation Anakin went through from Palps (since Palpatine had an extra 10 years) and his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon...

Obi-Wan’s Knighting happened so quickly. It felt like one moment they were on Geonosis, fighting for their lives, and the next there was a war, they were back on Coruscant, and he was kneeling in front of the Council, Anakin’s hand on his shoulder.

The metal of Anakin’s new fingers felt cold, even through the glove he wore and Obi-Wan’s robes. He felt a hitch of guilt in his gut. It was his fault that his Master had lost a limb; if he’d just been a little faster, a little stronger, Dooku would not have taken him out of the fight.

But the brutal heat of Geonosis was behind them. There was nothing but the cool air of the Council chambers, the intent expressions of the Council members as he spoke his vows, as Anakin slid fingers up the side of his neck - prompting an inappropriate shiver, but his body remembered Anakin touching him that way in so many  _ other  _ situations - to grip his braid.

Obi-Wan’s heart raced, when Anakin cut through the hair, when Master Yoda smiled and told him to rise. He felt like he was dreaming, even as he stood and got a look at Anakin’s face - his expression seemed strange, unusually tense - and he gripped Obi-Wan tightly, when they embraced.

The rest of the day was a blur. The Council members all had words to say to him and his friends insisted on dragging him out of the Temple, afterwards, to celebrate. He felt Anakin’s gaze as he was tugged along, trying to call out an invitation, but something about the expression in Anakin’s eyes, dark and tense, made the words catch in his throat.

Obi-Wan was still thinking about that look when he made it back to the Temple, in the early hours of the morning. His head buzzed with drink, leaving him feeling loose as he went back to their quarters. He made no effort to be quiet as he entered; he felt Anakin’s mind - awake and restless - as he approached.

The lights were dim, when he entered their quarters. Anakin was standing over by the window, one hand braced on the wall, his shoulders a tight line, tunics gone so Obi-Wan could see the line of his spine, all the marks of different battles they’d fought together. Anakin’s hair hung loose, for once, across his shoulders. He was beautiful, so much so that for a moment Obi-Wan just stopped and stared.

Anakin asked, as the door shut behind Obi-Wan, “Have a good time?”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan shrugged. It had been nice, spending time with Aayla and the others. But he’d felt, throughout the entire evening, the tension coming off of Anakin through their bond. It had distracted him, keeping his thoughts always back on the Temple, on whatever was bothering his Master so much. He made his way across the room, asking, as he brushed a touch across Anakin’s arm, “Are you alright?”

Anakin turned away from the window without answering, all sudden movement, hard to track with Obi-Wan’s thoughts all blurred. Obi-Wan’s breath punched out, all in a rush, when Anakin pushed him against the wall.

Anakin was so close, one forearm on the wall by Obi-Wan’s head, his breath dancing across Obi-Wan’s cheeks. His eyes were dark in the dim light, capturing and holding Obi-Wan’s gaze. Obi-Wan shivered with anticipation, his body responding the way it always had when Anakin got like this. He could feel himself getting hard, without even being touched, really.

“Master,” he murmured, into the space between them, still not sure what to make of Anakin’s mood - he got into similar states often, quiet and intense, but Obi-Wan always managed to bring him back, Anakin said he was the only one who could--

Anakin made a sharp little sound, mouth twitching. “I’m not your Master anymore.” He said the words almost viciously, a curl of something dark rising in his thoughts, twining around Obi-Wan, leaving him with a shiver down his back. “And you’re not my Padawan,” Anakin added, shifting a little closer, nose sliding against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I’ve been waiting all night to properly congratulate you, but we need to talk, first.”

“What--” Obi-Wan started, and Anakin kissed him, hard, brief.

When he pulled back, his eyes were burning. He said, low, an edge of desperation in this voice, “You’re still going to be mine, aren’t you, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan gasped, hands gripping at Anakin’s back, knowing exactly what Anakin needed to hear, feeling how much he needed to hear it, and rasping back, “Yes.” 

He’d worried, the first time Anakin had said such things. Attachment and possession were not the Jedi way, but -- but everyone had said his Master was the Chosen One, and so, surely, Anakin knew what he was talking about, surely it was alright for Anakin to want him that way, just like it had been alright the first time Anakin pulled him close and kissed him, telling him, voice low and intense, afterwards, “You can’t tell the Council about this, Obi-Wan, neither of us can, or they’ll take you away from me, and I couldn’t bear that. Losing you would destroy me.”

Obi-Wan had never told anyone, not once, about the way his Master kissed him or - or any of the other things they did together. 

Anakin made a hoarse sound, shifting to curl his fingers around Obi-Wan’s jaw, kissing him there, against the wall, hard and relentless. Obi-Wan hung onto him, melting into the embrace, because he knew what Anakin needed, when he got like this, his emotions flaring hot and demanding between them.

He knew exactly what his Master needed, and had always been the only one who could help.

Obi-Wan’s jaw ached, when Anakin broke the kiss. He was breathing hard, lower lip aching from Anakni’s parting nip. “You’re always going to be mine,” Anakin said, sucking kisses to his jaw, his hand sliding down. He no longer sounded like he was asking, only - only speaking fact into being, mouth hot on Obi-Wan’s throat as he nipped and sucked.

His Master liked to leave marks on him. Obi-Wan had learned that, long ago, and adjusted his garb appropriately. No one had asked why he started wearing the undertunic and high-necked shirts, but it was - was so important that no one see the dark stains on his neck, his shoulders, and--

“Say it,” Anakin rumbled, tugging at his belt, dropping it to the ground. Anakin shoved fabric back, out of the way, and the first time he’d made the request, years ago, Obi-Wan hadn’t known what it was Anakin needed to hear.

Those days were long past.

He gasped out, shivering and aching as Anakin set teeth against his skin, “I’m yours.”

Anakin’s emotions curled tighter around him, deepening. He tugged Obi-Wan’s tunics down, discarding them on the ground, trailing biting kisses out across his shoulder, rasping out, “That’s right, you’re  _ mine _ . Not the Council’s.”

Anakin tore, roughly, at the closures on his trousers, shoving them down more with the Force than anything else. He curled fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, strong and familiar and callused, and the first time Anakin had touched him like this, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to believe it; it seemed impossible that Anakin would want  _ him _ , but--

But Obi-Wan knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Anakin  _ did _ . Anakin wanted him in a way he didn’t want anyone else in the galaxy. He - somehow - made Anakin happy, made him smile and - and Obi-Wan could give him what he needed, could help him, make him--

“Just yours,” Obi-Wan rasped, in dizzy confirmation, and Anakin made a pleased sound, dark and deep. Anakin ran a hand down his body, looking him over, as though there were any parts of Obi-Wan he hadn’t seen. 

“No one else gets to see you like this,” Anakin rumbled, fingers brushing over marks left across Obi-Wan’s collarbone, his nipple. Obi-Wan shivered, breath getting faster from the look in Anakin’s eyes, from the way he said, “No one gets to touch you like this,” as he stroked Obi-Wan’s cock, proprietary, faster. “Not your little friends. Only I do.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why they were talking about his friends. But, then, Anakin could get… strange, if Obi-Wan spent too much time with other people. He had so much weight on his shoulders. So much asked of him. The least Obi-Wan could do was be there for him, help him, give him what he needed, promise him, “Only you.”

“Force,” Anakin rasped, leaning forward to kiss him, filthily, stroking his cock, relentless, nothing but pure pleasure in the touch as he murmured, “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Obi-Wan?” And all Obi-Wan could do was gasp out confirmation, shivering all over as his gut tightened and he spilled all over Anakin’s fingers.

Anakin leaned back a little, just staring down at him, before he said, thick, “On your knees.”

Obi-Wan shivered, responding automatically, still lost in a haze of pleasure. He sank down, murmuring, “Yes, Master,” from long, long habit, and listening to Anakin make a hoarse, hungry sound. Anakin may not have, technically, been his Master anymore, but--but he’d long ago grown accustomed to murmuring the words, to just… doing as Anakin said, obeying his Master.

“You look so good like this,” Anakin rasped, hand still braced on the wall, reaching out to cup Obi-Wan’s jaw with his other hand, thumb stroking across Obi-Wan’s bottom lip. Obi-Wan’s breath was coming fast, shaky, his head buzzing. 

He opened his mouth without prompting, when Anakin let go, tugging himself free of his slacks, his cock hard already. Obi-Wan licked across his lips, making them slick, and felt his eyes flutter as Anakin slid into his mouth.

Anakin had taught him how to properly lick and suck, taught him how to relax into it, taught him how not to gag at the pressure against the back of his throat. Sometimes, Anakin wanted him to hollow his cheeks, to bob his head and linger. And, sometimes, Anakin wanted to grip the short strands of his hair, to tilt his head just so and to fuck into his mouth and throat.

Anakin panted above him, pushing the back of Obi-Wan’s head against the wall. Obi-Wan didn’t choke, when Anakin pushed  _ in _ , breath caught inside his chest, feeling every inch of Anakin’s cock. He wondered, in that vague, distant way his thoughts arrived, when Anakin was like this, if Anakin would come in his mouth or across his skin, if--

Anakin pulled out of his mouth an age later with a bitten off curse, his cock wet and hard. Obi-Wan coughed, gasping for breath, feeling his pulse throbbing in his face, the air cool on the wet skin of his cheeks and chin. He’d made a mess, but he always did, when Anakin fucked his throat. 

He didn’t choke and gag anymore, but the way his eyes watered seemed to be some kind of… built in thing. Unavoidable. “Come here,” Anakin ground out, grabbing his arms and drawing him to his feet while his head was still swimming, while his thoughts were all quiet and scattered. He could only distantly sense the other Jedi in the Temple, the world beyond. Anakin’s emotions and needs filled the room, filled his head, and he shivered when Anakin kissed him, hard.

“My Obi-Wan,” Anakin panted, against his mouth, after a moment, stroking a hand back over his hair, other hand sliding down Obi-Wan’s body, over his stomach, brushing across his half-hard cock. Anakin made a thoughtful little sound when Obi-Wan jumped - still sensitive - and curled fingers around him, stroking him, slow and firm, until he’d hardened again, despite the strange ache it left in his gut. “You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded; he’d always tried to do well, to be a good Padawan, to be what Anakin needed. He felt Anakin smile, felt his approval and pleasure, right before Anakin brushed a kiss against his jaw, and said, “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, not even thinking to protest. He always listened to what Anakin told him to do. He didn’t see why that would change, even if he weren’t Anakin’s Padawan anymore. He turned, years of training letting him stay steady, even though his head was swimming. He put his hands to the cool wall, and Anakin made an appreciative sound, dragging both hands down his sides, grip settling at his hips.

Obi-Wan gasped when Anakin shifted closer behind him, cock dragging over his skin. “I need you,” Anakin panted out. “Force, Obi-Wan. Do you see how hard you make me? How desperate? I need you so kriffing much…” He took a hand off Obi-Wan’s skin, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught when, a moment later, something slick spilled over his skin, when he heard the tell-tale sound of Anakin slicking himself up.

They’d--they’d been intimate, earlier. Before his Knighting. Anakin had been desperate, had needed him, has pressed him into their mattress and pinned his hands, fucking him hard and fast. He was still sore, aching. But it meant he was still stretched, a little, and--

And Obi-Wan forgot how to breathe, for a moment, anyway, when Anakin pushed into him, murmuring, “None of your friends know how you look like this. All reddened. Used. Desperate for it again.” He reached around to curl fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock at the same time, the sensation teetering on the edge of far too much. 

Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, the way he’d learned how to do. “There you go, breathe,” Anakin murmured, stroking his cock, “you always do this so well, Obi-Wan.” And - and the praise made him shiver, even as Anakin shifted back and pushed in once more, further, Obi-Wan giving around him in a series of breathless moments, only distantly aware of the sounds he was making, all caught up in touch, in the buzz in his nerves, until Anakin’s hips were flush with his skin.

“And why,” Anakin said, like he was picking up some conversation Obi-Wan had lost track of, his voice dark and his emotions all close and swirling, as he rocked his hips, fucking Obi-Wan slow and deep. Purposeful, hand moving constantly over Obi-Wan’s cock. “Do you take me so well, hm?” 

Obi-Wan knew the answer, knew it out of his head, knew it breathless, knew it with his shoulders trembling and his fingers flexing against the wall, so close to an orgasm that he knew would ache. He gasped out, “Because I’m yours.”

Anakin made a low sound, all approval, pace picking up, his hips snapping forward and the sound of skin on skin filled their quarters. Obi-Wan cried out again, pushed right up to the edge despite the discomfort, the burn, Anakin’s pleasure all in his head, all in his nerves, his own echoing out with each thrust because - because Anakin always made him feel good, when they did this, touched places inside of him Obi-Wan had never knew about and--

“There you go,” Anakin murmured, thick and pleased, when Obi-Wan came, and oh, it felt so good and it left him aching all at once, trembling as Anakin shifted and fucked him harder. He felt so sensitive he could barely breathe, floundering, his heart skipping beats.

He kept his hands on the wall, though, through all of it. He let his head dip forward, all the muscles in his shoulders shaking, feeling sweat slide down his back, feeling Anakin’s hands gripping into his hips - there’d be new marks, he knew, layered on top of the purple-green bruises already there, and--

“I can’t lose you,” Anakin panted, thrusts getting more desperate, the sounds of them moving together filling the air. “I can’t, kriff, you’re all that keeps me sane, you know that, don’t you? I love you, so much.”

Obi-Wan nodded, as best he could, trying to hold himself together. He knew, he knew it all, Anakin had told him so many times. “Say it,” Anakin ground out, his needs and desperation like physical presences in the room, “say you’re mine, Obi-Wan, say I’ll never lose you.”

Obi-Wan worked his jaw for a moment. His voice cracked, when he managed to rasp out, shakily, “I’m yours.”

“Always,” Anakin growled, voice lower, hands gripping tighter.

“Always yours,” Obi-Wan gasped, trembling, hoping he was being what Anakin needed, hoping--

And Anakin ground out, “Fuck, Obi-Wan,” and pushed into him, losing his rhythm - finally - coming with a low, ragged sound. Obi-Wan felt shiveringly aware of the length of him, the stretch. Each movement jolted through him, as Anakin breathed, heavy, against the back of his neck, just - just pressing a few kisses, absent, to his skin.

“Force, you undo me,” Anakin murmured, sliding out of him, finally, Obi-Wan felt each inch and muffled a cry by biting his bottom lip, head spinning when Anakin pressed against his side. “You’re just...irresistible. So perfect for me. Just for me.” 

“Master,” he panted, his head nothing but sensation, all his thoughts gone.

Anakin made a soft sound, thick, and slid a hand over his hip, down, and Obi-Wan whimpered at the push of two fingers, just into him, the feel of leather moving into his body unfamiliar and shocking. It was so far past the edge of what he thought he could bear, but he bit back the words “I can’t.”

Anakin hated it, when he said that. And - and Anakin knew, what he could do, he was the Chosen One and he--

“I could never let you go,” Anakin murmured, soft, lazily working his fingers in and out, over flesh so sensitive that Obi-Wan wanted to grab his wrist, but he’d learned self-control. Even the Council had remarked upon it. He crooked his fingers, and Obi-Wan heard himself whimper, from somewhere far away, pleasure running through his veins alongside pain.

Anakin slid his other hand forward, after a long, long moment, curling his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, impossibly hard again. “I need you, Obi-Wan, you know that, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded, jerkily, keeping still, back and thighs trembling as Anakin pressed against him, crooked his fingers inside, and breathed, against his ear, “You’ve been so very, very good. Just what I needed. But I need you to come for me again. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t actually sure he could, but he nodded anyway, rasped out, “Yes, Master.” And Anakin rumbled, pleased, emotions so settled now, all of his tension bled away, leaving just - just contentment and something else, far darker, that wound ever tighter around Obi-Wan - but he must have just been imagining that, and--

And Anakin worked in another finger, stroking him without reprieve, sucking kisses to Obi-Wan’s skin, murmuring, “You look so good like this, all red around my fingers, my come running down your legs. I wish the Council could see you right now, so they’d all know--”

Obi-Wan’s orgasm  _ hurt _ , torn out of him, pleasure and pain racing through him as he cried out, knees going weak as his head swam. Anakin kept stroking his cock, and Obi-Wan whimpered, blinking his stinging, blurry eyes, another sound torn out of him when Anakin slid his fingers free. 

He felt boneless and considered just sinking down to the floor, but Anakin moved before he could, sweeping him up with infinite gentleness. Obi-Wan pressed his face against Anakin’s solid shoulder, breathing unsteady as Anakin held him, so carefully, and murmured, dark and thick, “Congratulations, Knight Kenobi.” 


	6. Cody/Obi-Wan/Anakin - Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt with an established relationship/arrangement with Cody/Obi-Wan/Anakin. Cody and Anakin don’t have romantic feelings for each other and they may have… already learned to share, because that’s how the muse took me.

Obi-Wan considered that, for two people who had not always got along - especially where he was concerned - Anakin and Cody had learned to work together very well. He entertained the thought as hands slid up the back of his already-open shirt. He shivered just a little, deliciously; he’d felt the bed dip when Anakin crawled on, and had been anticipating his touch.

Cody dragged his attention back with a nip at his lower lip and a tightening of his grip on Obi-Wan’s hips. Obi-Wan smiled into the kiss, shifting a little, teasingly. Cody was already hard, had been hard since he pulled Obi-Wan across his lap with sure, knowing hands.

Cody leaned against the headboard of the little bunk in Obi-Wan’s quarters, armor discarded all across the floor. Obi-Wan was, frankly, impressed the bunk could hold all three of them, though they were not, currently, taking up much space, all trying to get as close to one another as possible.

Anakin pushed Obi-Wan’s shirt up higher, pressing up behind him, dropping a kiss to his shoulder and murmuring, “Did you two get started without me?”

Obi-Wan broke the kiss to rasp, “Hardly.”

Anakin snorted, a doubtful little sound, and Cody said, “His clothes are still on, aren’t they?”

“True.” Anakin nipped at his skin, and his voice had gotten darker when he said, “We should really fix that, Commander.”

And Obi-Wan swore, softly, as Anakin gripped at his shirt, tugging fabric off of his shoulders. He shivered at the feeling of cool air on his already over-heated skin. There had been a time when Cody and Anakin felt the need to bicker with each other; especially when they were all in bed together.

Of late, it seemed they’d decided to team up, instead, Cody taking advantage of his distraction to lean forward and kiss at his throat, grinding up against him at the same time. Obi-Wan made to reach for him, his arms still caught in his shirt, and made a hoarse sound when Anakin tightened his fingers in the fabric, keeping his arms pinned back.

“Forget something?” Obi-Wan asked, voice hoarse as Anakin leaned forward, Obi-Wan’s arms caught between them, to trail sucking kisses across his shoulders.

“Mm, no,” Anakin said, as Cody trailed teeth across Obi-Wan’s pulse point, his hands sliding up Obi-Wan’s body, across bared skin and scars. “I don’t think so. Commander?”

“Looks like you’re within mission parameters to me, General,” Cody said, amusement and want all tangled together in his emotions - in both of their emotions - and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, going with it. Force knew they had little enough to be silly about, little enough that left stains of joy all over their feelings.

“Oh, well, in that case…” he said, trailing off when Anakin tugged him back a little, hand siding up Obi-Wan’s throat to curl fingers around his jaw, tilting his face back. Anakin kissed him, deep and thorough, and Obi-Wan did not protest the awkward angle; it was hard to protest anything with Cody cupping him through his slacks, bold and sure, sucking at his skin.

Obi-Wan squirmed against them both, sucking on Anakin’s bottom lip, pushing up against Cody’s hand as best he could, listening to the thick sounds they both made. He felt how much they both wanted, the echoed waves of desire making his heart beat faster.

He still wasn’t sure exactly  _ why _ they both harbored such feelings for him, but…

But that hardly mattered, not with Anakin pushing him forward again, Cody pulling him closer, kissing him deep and hard while Anakin tugged at the closures on his breeches, making them loose around his hips.

“Nicely done,” Cody said, hand slipping past Obi-Wan’s waistband, fingers curling around his cock, so sweet and sure it made Obi-Wan ache. 

“Thank you,” Anakin rasped back, voice getting thicker by the moment. He shifted around, making a little, sharp sound when Obi-Wan attempted to free his arms at the movement. Anakin tightened his grip, twisting the fabric around, and it was enough to drag Obi-Wan’s shoulders together, a stretch across his chest that left him gasping in surprise. 

“I can’t touch either of you like this,” he pointed out, distantly aware of Anakin handing something to Cody with his free hand, the sound of a lid snapping open, and, oh--

“No,” Cody said, thick and dark, “you can’t, can you?” He slid his hand off of Obi-Wan’s cock with a last, lingering stroke, and Obi-Wan made a hoarse noise of protest, changing in pitch when Anakin took over a breath later. Anakin had cooler hands, more callused. They both felt amazing around him, and Obi-Wan shifted his hips as much as he could, caught between them.

“You just have to let us touch you,” Anakin murmured, breath hot on Obi-Wan’s neck, shifting a little closer himself. “And I don’t know about you, Commander, but I  _ really  _ want to touch him.”

“Agreed,” Cody said, and as though to prove it he slid both hands back over Obi-Wan’s sides, pushing down the fabric of Obi-Wan’s trousers, getting it off of his hips. “You can’t just distract us like this. We can… focus appropriately,” he murmured, touch disappearing for a moment, before he gripped a handful of Obi-Wan’s ass, his other hand sliding further down, fingers sliding slick across skin, and--

“Force,” Anakin choked out, shifting, and Obi-Wan realized with a hot little lurch in his gut that Anakin was  _ watching  _ Cody work a finger into him. He must have liked what he saw, because he dragged his hand off of Obi-Wan’s cock and pushed Obi-Wan forward, instead, against Cody’s chest. Anakin kept his hand there, holding Obi-Wan where he wanted.

Obi-Wan groaned, turning his face against Cody’s shoulder, solid muscle under his cheek. “What’s he look like?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan curled fingers into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his skin stain in a blush, gasping when Cody shifted his hand, adding another finger, just--

“Like he needs fucked,” Anakin rasped back, sounding almost dreamy. “Force, you should--he’s so tight around your fingers. So slick. So soft.”

“Tight, huh?” Cody’s voice was a rumble; he fucked his fingers in, knuckles catching just for an instant, the feeling dragging a moan from Obi-Wan’s throat, pleasure spreading through him. “Well, you going to help me loosen him up, or what?”

Anakin made a harsh, desperate sound, and said, “Hold him, then,” and Obi-Wan shivered all over when Cody curled his other arm up, gripping at the shirt, holding Obi-Wan close against his body. 

Anakin put a hand on Obi-Wan’s hip, tugging, pulling him back just a little, and the curve of Obi-Wan’s spine made him feel exposed, wanton, but-- but that was alright, he didn’t mind being exposed, here in his bed with Cody and Anakin, who was, apparently, slicking his other hand up and--

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan choked out, when Anakin touched him, pushed  _ inside  _ him, alongside Cody’s fingers. He squirmed - or tried to - and they both tightened their grips, holding him just so. 

“You should see him,” Anakin panted out, sounding awed, teasing another fingertip against Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Take a holo next time,” Cody advised, and Obi-Wan groaned, the thought of it making his skin heat all over. Anakin echoed the sound, fingers sinking it, and between the two of them it was a constant sensation, no relief from the building pressure. 

Obi-Wan shifted his hips, as much as he could, the tip of his cock dragging across Cody’s stomach, not enough to get any friction. “Stay still,” Anakin told him, with a squeeze at his hip, “and I’ll give you a hand. How’s that sound?”

“Very agreeable,” Obi-Wan managed to gasp out, and Cody snorted a laugh, sliding his fingers in and just - just leaving them, deep, fingertips crooked just so, lighting up Obi-Wan’s spine and making him gasp as Anakin reached forward. 

“Do you mind a mess, Commander?” Anakin asked, leather moving across Obi-Wan’s cock, the sensation so different from skin, and--

“Not at all,” Cody said, tightening his hold as Obi-Wan squirmed, unable to stop as they put their hands all over him, just right. He panted, raggedly, crying out, the sound muffled against Cody’s throat as he trembled and came, all across Cody’s skin. “Sh, sh,” Cody crooned to him, “how’s that feel?”

“Good,” Obi-Wan panted, the word ending in a groan when Anakin slid his fingers out, Cody following suit a moment later. Obi-Wan felt loose limbed and shivery enough to let them manhandle him without protest, flexing his fingers when Anakin finally pulled off his shirt, and Cody put a hand on his jaw, directing him into a slow, languid kiss.

“Am I the only one who is going to enjoy themselves?” Obi-Wan asked, after a long moment, as Anakin kissed across his shoulders, gentling touches, and he could sense them both letting him settle. It made his chest ache, sweetly.

“Oh, I’m enjoying myself  _ immensely _ . Are you not enjoying yourself, General?” Cody asked, grinning when Obi-Wan drew back just enough to arch an eyebrow. 

Anakin pressed up close behind him in response to the question, his cock hard and hot against Obi-Wan’s skin. He said, nuzzling up behind Obi-Wan’s ear, “I’m finding this entire situation very enjoyable, Commander, thanks for asking.”

Obi-Wan thought, sometimes, that they’d been easier to deal with when they were trying to one-up one another. But only sometimes. The serenity in the Force when they were all together, when they were teaming up, instead, was far more pleasant.

“Wonderful,” he said, amusement staining his voice, and Cody’s smile widened; Obi-Wan could feel an answering grin from Anakin against his skin. He added, reaching one hand forward and the other back, touching them both, “Is there anything I could do that would, perhaps, help you enjoy yourselves more?”

He snorted as they looked at one another over his shoulder. Cody’s eyes were darker when he looked back, running his fingers up into Obi-Wan’s hair and rasping, “Well. I can think of one of two things you could do,” as he tugged. 

Obi-Wan wetted his lips, dropping a few kisses against Cody’s skin as he was tugged down. Cody, apparently, wasn’t in the mood to tease, his grip sure as he spread his legs, a little, to make room for Obi-Wan to settle between them.

Anakin tugged Obi-Wan into place, stroking hands across skin as Obi-Wan eyed the mess of come already on Cody’s stomach, flushing a bit hotter. “Sorry,” he murmured, fingers brushing the mess as he settled, and Cody shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, voice thick, expression open and soft, and Obi-Wan could think of nothing to say to that, so he said nothing. He took a little breath, instead, and licked across the head of Cody’s cock. 

Cody groaned, fingers tightening just a little before he relaxed his grip. His cock was thick and hot on Obi-Wan’s tongue - all the troopers ran so much hotter than nat borns. There was a smear of pre-come already on his skin. Obi-Wan swallowed it down, sliding his mouth, just a little, a tease of hot and wet.

“Force, the sounds you make,” Anakin bit out, and it wasn’t much of a surprise when he hauled up at Obi-Wan’s hips, getting him onto his knees.

“They’re perfect,” Cody added, and Obi-Wan couldn’t stain any redder than he already was, but-- Well, his skin tried. He wasn’t so used to compliments, to praise, and it left his gut aching and his chest tight, made him curl his tongue just so, listening to Cody make a delicious, strangled sound.

He lost his rhythm, unable to avoid it, when Anakin moved behind him, working three fingers into him all at once. He cried out, muffled by Cody’s cock, and felt soothing hands petting at his hair, his back. “There’s something I’d enjoy, too,” Anakin said, thick, twisting his fingers just once and pulling out. “Are you ready? Not too sensitive?”

Cody tugged on Obi-Wan’s hair, and Obi-Wan pulled off his cock with a wet sound. He swallowed; his voice still sounded wrecked when he said, “Yes, yes, come on, I--”

He cut off, groaning, when Anakin gripped his hips and pushed into him, all at once, slow and steady. His body lit up and he leaned forward, wanting Cody’s cock back in his mouth, wanting both of them in him, wanting all they had to offer and willing to offer all he had in return and--

And he could not suck, much, not with Anakin fucking him, shifting his body back and forth. He relaxed his jaw, Cody’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth, Cody reading Anakin’s rhythm and shifting his hips up, off of the mattress, thrusting into his mouth in perfect time, fingers curled so careful against the back of Obi-Wan’s head.

Cody said something, but Obi-Wan was having a difficult time focusing, all lit up under his skin, full of so much sensation there wasn’t really room for anything else. There was no room to think about battle plans, or the next mission, or--or anything, just pleasure and quiet in his head, hands on his body, keeping him stable and grounded.

He knew he was making sounds, muffled, knew that his fingers were clenched in the blankets, doing his best to move with them, to meet Anakin’s thrusts and to swallow, when Cody’s cock nudged the back of his throat and--

And that made Cody cry out, sharply. There was a timeless moment where Obi-Wan thought he was going to come, relishing the idea, knowing he’d already made a mess and wanting--

But Cody shifted his hips back, instead, and then thrust forward again, changing his position on the bed to maintain the deeper angle, and Obi-Wan stopped thinking at all, couldn’t, gasping and sucking in breaths where he could, each movement pushing his pleasure higher and higher.

Their pleasure sung through him, braiding with his, threefold and sweet. He felt it, when Anakin lost the last shreds of his control, even before Anakin tightened his grip and fucked in a last few, desperate times, coming with a desperate cry. 

Anakin slumped behind him, holding his hips, like he didn’t want to slip out, breathing shakily as Cody fucked into his mouth. Obi-Wan swallowed, sucked, no longer needing to worry about the shifting movement of his body, bringing a hand up, fingers curled below his mouth - Cody’s cock was so slick from him - and he felt Cody’s orgasm, too, seconds before he came, swearing.

Obi-Wan swallowed, automatically, Cody making a soft, pained sound as he did.

Anakin groaned, and sprawled sideways, dragging Obi-Wan along. Obi-Wan gasped when his cock slid out, gulping at the air and feeling overheated, delightfully so. He was still catching his breath when Anakin leaned over him and kissed him, deep and hungry, and he had to be able to taste Cody in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

He seemed to like it, and Obi-Wan curled an arm up around his shoulder, kissing back, his mouth over sensitive in the best way, crying out against Anakin’s lips when Cody shifted around to sprawl beside them.

Obi-Wan jolted, helplessly, when Cody licked across his cock - he hadn’t realized how painfully hard he was, until that moment - and sucked. They were both pressed all against him, hands roaming over his skin, Cody working an arm between his thighs, fingers brushing back, and, oh--pushing some of Anakin’s come back into him, letting him feel it, all over, and--

And Obi-Wan’s vision went all white, for a moment, when he came, panting into Anakin’s mouth, gripping Cody’s arm with one hand and Anakin’s hair with the other. “Force,” he slurred, tingling all over, breath shaky and heart racing.

He felt both of them smile, without even having to look.


	7. agaptfaa snippet (Obikin -ABO verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a request for Anakin and Obi-Wan being intimate the first time after the birth of the twins in agaptfaa. Sweet and spicy!

Obi-Wan’s life had made him used to operating on next-to-no sleep. That had come in handy, after the birth of the twins. They only slept for a few hours at a time, and, while they had plenty of offers of help, getting a solid eight hours proved to be impossible.

Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to sleep through one of the twins waking up, even if they were elsewhere in the Temple complex. He felt their minds stirring and it dragged him out of sleep, 

Still, as the weeks passed, they did sleep  _ longer _ , at least. And he gave up resisting the urge to just… pass out briefly throughout the day. He’d passed out across the mattress, apparently, after getting the twins down for a nap, and woke up, slowly, to warm sunshine across his face and a warmer body curled close to his.

He hadn’t even felt Anakin crawl onto the mattress.

Obi-Wan shifted, thoughts stretching out towards the twins and finding them still asleep. He needed to get up. There was so much to do. He sighed, shifting again, and Anakin made an unhappy little sound, threw a leg over his, and pressed closer, mind stirring towards wakefulness.

Obi-Wan went still at the unexpected press of Anakin’s cock against his hip, evident right through their clothes. They… hadn’t done anything since the twin’s birth, besides kiss, an event often interrupted by yawning and the need for sleep.

He cleared his throat as Anakin froze behind him, and asked, “Happy to see me?”

“Kriff,” Anakin rasped back, before pointedly shifting back - he felt embarrassed, abashed, through the Force - and adding, “Sorry.”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his back, the middle of his chest an ache. He’d known that after the birth of the twins it was possible Anakin’s interest in him would wane. He’d considered it, so often. The twins were still sleeping, blessedly, so he sought calm and asked, “What are you sorry about?”

Anakin’s mouth twisted as he looked to the side, gesturing down at himself. “For--for--” He blew out a breath and scrubbed at his face. “For being pushy. I - Force, I know you need time to recover, it just -- happens.”

Obi-Wan  _ had  _ needed time to recover, even with the aid of the Force. The twins birth had been… stressful, for all of them. Still… He pushed up on an elbow, looking across at Anakin, and said, quietly, “I’m quite fully recovered, Anakin.”

Anakin sucked in a breath and held it, slowly looking over at him. “Oh?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s eyes darken, watched him wet his bottom lip. He shivered a little, when Anakin leaned over, closer again, sliding a hand across his stomach.

“And you’d…” Anakin slid his hand up, and Obi-Wan could not help but press into the touch. “Would you like it, could I touch you, or--”

“Please,” Obi-Wan interrupted, and Anakin groaned, curling over to kiss him, and Obi-Wan was just as hard as he was when Anakin slid a thigh between his legs, giving him something to grind up against.

“Force,” Anakin panted, thrumming with want all at once, but it had been months since they’d done more than kiss, and--and Obi-Wan felt just as one edge, pressing up against him,  _ wanting _ . They got tangled together, pulling off clothes, or at least shoving them out of the way. “I’ve missed touching you, so much.”

And Obi-Wan didn’t argue that they touched plenty. He knew exactly what Anakin meant, aching sweetly with relief that Anakin still wanted him, and needing, suddenly, to be so much closer. He groaned when Anakin slid down his body, dropping kisses everywhere, and, oh--

Well, he’d not forgotten how good Anakin’s mouth felt, but it was glorious to be reminded, anyway. He curled fingers into Anakin’s hair - getting longer every day - and melted into the sensation. It had been an age and he’d never had any resistances to the way Anakin touched him, anyway, gasping out a warning when he felt himself getting too close to the edge.

Anakin only braced a forearm across his hips and redoubled his efforts, groaning with all evidence of pleasure when Obi-Wan came, so hard it left him gasping up to the ceiling. 

“Mm,” Anakin murmured, a moment later, crawling up to kiss his mouth, warm and solid. He added, barely pulling back, “I’ve missed that.”

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks staining crimson, flustered when he said, “Anything else you’ve missed?”

“Plenty,” Anakin said, kissing him for a long moment, rocking against him, his cock still hard and hot. Obi-Wan drew a leg up, thigh brushing against Anakin’s hip, rocking his hips, and Anakin groaned, shocking pleasure shooting through his signature in the Force. “Wait,” he panted, rolling all at once, dragging Obi-Wan along, “come here.”

Obi-Wan blinked down at him, sprawled pleasantly across him, still feeling dazed from the sweet pleasure of his orgasm. “Like this?” he asked, shifting a little, and getting a groan for his efforts.

“Yes,” Anakin rasped out, running hands up his thighs, “you can--make sure it’s not too much. Like this.”

And Obi-Wan’s heart ached, a sweet, lingering sensation. He felt fairly sure he would have been fine regardless of the position, but he could feel Anakin’s worries and concerns, spilling out everywhere. And so he bent and stole a kiss, before rising up just a little and reaching a hand back, gripping Anakin’s cock.

He sank down slowly, relearning the feel of being stretched, of having Anakin inside of him. He braced his hands on Anakin’s chest, watching the way Anakin’s expression broke open, his eyes going wide and his bottom lip caught in his teeth. Anakin’s hands flexed against his skin, restless, but he held himself so still, otherwise, muscles tensing with the effort of it.

Obi-Wan gasped as he settled, a tremble walking up his spine, and Anakin ground out, “Is it--are you alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded, breathless and full of delightful sensation. He let himself adjust, for a moment, before rising up, and, oh-- Oh, his body remembered what to do, how to shift and sink back, falling into an easy rhythm, Anakin staring up at him as though awestruck.

He groaned when Anakin shifted his hips up to meet him, and blurted, before Anakin could ask a question about it, “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Anakin groaned, tense under Obi-Wan’s hands, holding back, and Obi-Wan nodded, gut getting tighter and tighter by the moment.

“Yes,” he gasped out, “I’ve missed, ah, having you in me, missed--”

“Force,” Anakin bit out, rocking up off of the bed, thrusting into Obi-Wan and--and Obi-Wan cried out with delighted surprise, throwing a hand towards the headboard to brace. Anakin panted, “Can I?”

“Please,” Obi-Wan managed to grind out, because, oh, it felt delightful, and Anakin made a garbled, nonsense sound, gripped his hips, fucking into him desperately. Obi-Wan’s breath punched out of him, along with sounds he tried to muffle, failing miserably, but it had been so long, and--

And he shivered as he felt Anakin’s knot swelling, swearing as he noticed the twins waking at the same time. He gritted his teeth, pulling away and listening to Anakin cry out raggedly, all loss, even as Anakin fell over the edge into orgasm.

Obi-Wan shivered at the feeling of come hitting his thighs, Anakin panting up at him from the sheets, expression dazed with pleasure. “Where--” Anakin slurred, reaching for him as Obi-Wan rolled towards the side of the bed. “Obi-Wan--”

And it was, of course, at that moment when Leia started crying.


	8. A Slow Fall Towards Grace Snippet (Codywan - ABO verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a request for the missing scene in the slo!au where Cody and Obi-Wan make love in Chapter Nine. Sweet and spicy as well!

Cody pulled Obi-Wan closer, still not quite believing that he’d been so wrong. They had more to talk about - so much more to discuss - but it was hard to think about that with Obi-Wan melting into his embrace, mouth soft and welcoming as Cody kissed him. 

They’d never kissed outside of a heat, before, and Cody found that it was not, really, so different. Obi-Wan always kissed with a stunning amount of focus, giving and sweet and unhurried. Cody had no idea how other people kissed, and no real desire to find out; he couldn’t imagine that anyone did it better than Obi-Wan, currently cupping both sides of his face and sucking on his lower lip.

He’d awoken that morning aware that Obi-Wan was about to fall over into a heat and he’d gone to - to offer what assistance he could, because the thought of Obi-Wan having to go find some stranger to help him, after all he’d gone through, had cut inside his chest. He’d been willing to ignore the pain of - of having something so close to what he wanted, of having Obi-Wan’s body but not his heart, but--

“Force,” Obi-Wan murmured, against his mouth, as Cody nudged him back one step and then another, and another, until they reached the bed. 

The sheets were still a mess from earlier. Most of the blankets were, in fact, on the floor. Cody avoided them, breaking the kiss just long enough to sit on the mattress, tugging Obi-Wan after him.

He ended up sprawled across a damp spot on the sheets, and didn’t even care. In fact, he felt a little kick of pride in his gut as Obi-Wan stretched out beside him, arm curled around his shoulders, falling right back to kissing him.

Cody would have, happily, kissed Obi-Wan for the rest of the night, if that was what he’d wanted, but he couldn’t suppress a little shiver of relief when Obi-Wan started tugging at his belt. He’d been hard for what felt like an age, since the moment they’d fallen into an embrace, despite all of their… earlier activities.

He shifted up, pulling off the white tunic - he liked it much better than the armor he’d grown used to wearing - and grabbing his black undershirt. Obi-Wan made a thick little sound, and Cody found him staring, openly, after he threw his shirt to one side.

Cody couldn’t help a quirk of his mouth, a swell of pleasure at the glazed look in Obi-Wan’s eyes and the want written across his expression. “I want to touch you,” Obi-Wan said, in the same tone he’d used before he - he licked across Cody’s cock, earlier, and Cody shivered, because that was a memory he was going to cherish for the rest of his life.

“By all means,” he said, and Obi-Wan moved towards him, all predatory grace, pushing him onto his back and leaning down to kiss his mouth, his jaw, further back. Obi-Wan’s skin was cooler than his - always was - and his hands were strong, his fingers roughened with calluses and scars, but he was infinitely gentle.

Obi-Wan touched him so carefully, running his palms across Cody’s chest, out to his shoulders, his breath escaping in a little stuttering rasp against Cody’s throat, his beard a rasp against tender skin.

Cody pulled him a little closer, a hand in the small of his back, delighted to feel how hard Obi-Wan was, pressing against his leg, groaning when Obi-Wan rocked against him, with a hungry little sound.

“Let me see you, too,” he murmured, tugging at Obi-Wan’s tunics. It would feel so much nicer, he thought, if they were all skin to skin. Obi-Wan made a little sound, agreeable, pulling at his clothes while shifting up to kiss Cody’s mouth again.

Cody knew so many of the scars across Obi-Wan’s body; he’d been there when the injuries that left them behind occured. The majority he didn’t know; they’d been set against skin before he’d ever met Obi-Wan. He had questions about a hook of raised flesh at Obi-Wan’s side, and a series of jagged lines over his back, but…

But they’d spoken enough, for one day. He only traced them with his fingers, feeling Obi-Wan shiver against him, arching into the touch. Obi-Wan had not, he thought, ever been touched enough. Cody planned to fix that, he’d already developed strategies, and--

And they fell out of his head when Obi-Wan worked free the closures on his pants and slid his hand past the waistband. 

“Force,” Cody gritted out, because Obi-Wan’s hands always felt so good on him, most especially wrapped around his cock. He shoved at the waistband, trying to give Obi-Wan more room to work, feeling him smile. 

Obi-Wan kept touching him as he kicked his own blasted pants off, kept touching him as Cody pushed him back on the bed and tugged at  _ his  _ Force-damned trousers. It was… distracting. But Cody knew how to focus through distraction, through the ache of want in his blood, making a victorious sound when he managed to make Obi-Wan utterly naked.

There were a few marks, here and there, across Obi-Wan’s skin. He’d left them behind earlier, with his mouth and his hands. Seeing them left a shivery little feeling in his gut. Every time they’d shared a heat before, he’d only imagined the marks he left behind. There’d been no chance to look on them, and his cock twitched in Obi-Wan’s grip.

“You’re so kriffing beautiful,” he rasped, pressing closer all at once, needing to kiss Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan made a surprised, pleased sound, arching up against him. His hand caught between them for a moment, before he slid it around Cody’s hip, gripping at his back, instead.

There was no rush to touching him. Cody just... shifted against him, slow and steady, enjoying the drag of skin on skin, the wet smears of Obi-Wan’s slick on his legs, which tightened his gut and made him groan in the back of his throat.

Nothing in the kriffing galaxy felt quite as good as tangling together with Obi-Wan, and the sense memory of sinking into him was so sharp and clear in his mind. Obi-Wan shifted against him, arm slung across his shoulders as he drew a leg up, welcoming Cody to press a little closer, cock sliding on slick skin and--

“I want you,” Obi-Wan panted out, right against his mouth, canting his hips up, all red and flushed across his cheeks and throat, “Please, would you--”

And Cody saw no reason to make him ask twice. He curled fingers around Obi-Wan’s thigh, hitching his leg a little higher and, oh, sinking into him felt like coming home. He went slow - well aware of how tender Obi-Wan had to be, from his earlier heat - and careful, Obi-Wan gasping against his mouth as he settled.

They rocked together, slowly. Cody braced an elbow on the bed, staying close to trade shivery kisses. Obi-Wan held onto him, tightly, his cock caught between their stomachs, shifting against skin with each slow, deep thrust.

Time - the entire rest of the world - slipped out of focus. Cody couldn’t bring himself to care about anything outside of their bed, anything but the taste of Obi-Wan’s mouth and the way his eyes were glazed, the way he held on and started to cry out, sharp, with each movement.

Obi-Wan’s orgasm took him by surprise - perhaps it took Obi-Wan by surprise, too, for he groaned loudly as his cock jerked between them, making a mess all over them both. Even that felt far away as his body clenched and squeezed, sudden pressure that dragged Cody after him all in a rush.

He swore, dazed, pushing in one last time, his knot swelling, leaving them together, which was, he thought, perfect. 


	9. Obikin - Public/Ritual Sex and Marking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last fic for Spicy Week! This one features public/ritual sex and marking. Established relationship set late in the Clone Wars.

They landed on Tuls on a clear, cool morning, with frost across the ground. Technically, Anakin wasn’t even supposed to be on the mission, but he’d been working with the 212th when Obi-Wan’s orders came through and…

Well. They’d had enough things go wrong for Jedi sent on solo missions from the Senate. He’d decided he ought to tag along, and Obi-Wan hadn’t protested. They’d even had some time to sleep, on the flight to Tuls. Anakin had hoped they might have time for a bit more than sleep, but Obi-Wan had still been recovering from...whatever the kriff had happened to him over Raydonia.

Anakin took one look at the fading bruises all down his ribs, and lost the urge to press the issue. It was more than enough to hold Obi-Wan close while they slept, to pour healing energy down into his skin, hoping to ease as much of the damage as he could.

By the time they arrived on Tuls, most of the marks had faded away. Obi-Wan had stretched that morning, when he woke, and looked down at his side with a surprise written all over his expression. “Feeling better?” Anakin had asked, dropping a kiss against his ribs, and Obi-Wan had smiled at him, looking soft and still mussed from sleep.

But that had been  _ earlier _ , when it was just them. Obi-Wan looked nothing but professional as they set foot on Tuls soil, met by an entire delegation of tired, stooped humanoids, who looked at them and said, “Thank goodness you have finally arrived, Jedi. There is no longer much time.”

#

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, after the Tuls delegation had hurried them along, out of the cold and into a finally appointed meeting chamber. There was a fire crackling in a large hearth along one wall, which was a relief. There was a bitter chill in the air, which seemed odd. Anakin was almost sure Obi-Wan had said that it was supposed to be late spring on the planet. “I was not informed we were on a time-table, but you mentioned--”

“We are very late to bring the spring,” an older man said, rising heavily from a chair by the fire. He was solidly built - Anakin guessed he’d probably been all muscle, once. Time had added a healthy girth around his waist. He wore a crown of dark stone cut through with pale lines.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, and Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan looked back at the man and said, “And you… require our help, to bring the spring?”

The man nodded. He said, “Forgive my manners. I am King Urtus. And, yes. We need  _ your  _ help, specifically, Master Jedi.” Anakin could feel the relief radiating off of all of these people, even as their leader spoke.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, shifting around, loosening his shoulders in a little movement that Anakin wasn’t sure anyone else would identify as the first step towards a fight. “May I ask why? I’ve not heard of such assistance being required before.”

Urtus grimaced, looked to the side, and spat into the fire. “We did not need outside assistance. Not before the Separatist attacked us. The Keeper of Seasons was killed in the attack. Her apprentice…” He gestured to a boy standing to one side; the kid looked to be in his early teens. “Is not yet of age to bring the spring.”

“I think…” Obi-Wan said, as a creeping feeling ran down Anakin’s back, “that you ought to tell us, exactly, how one brings the spring, here on Tuls.”

#

“Are you serious?” Anakin said, after Urtus finished explaining exactly what it was they wanted Obi-Wan to do. He felt a prickle across his shoulders as everyone in the room turned to look at him, including Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow for good measure.

“We are quite serious,” Urtus said, as though he had not just suggested that - that Obi-Wan come down to some - some kind of  _ ritual chamber _ and take off all his clothes and--

“Getting kr -- engaging in intercourse doesn’t make the seasons change,” Anakin said, feeling his cheeks getting far too warm. He, abruptly, didn’t like the way any of the people in the room were looking at Obi-Wan.

Urtus shrugged. “It ever has on Tuls,” he said. 

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, hoping for support on how mad the entire suggestion was. He got a shrug, instead, and a thoughtful look, as Obi-Wan said, “I can feel the Force flowing through the core of this world. It is possible the seasons have become tied to… rituals, of a sort. And carnal relations are often tied to the advent of spring.”

Sometimes Anakin wanted to shake him. Not everything had to be a science project.

Urtus cleared his throat, before Anakin could point out that now was not the time to get curious about the ecosystem of some new world. “Please,” Urtus said. “It should be nearly summer now. We beg for your assistance with this matter.”

“Why does this have to be Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, shifting to put himself between them and Obi-Wan, just in case they got grabby.

“We can feel his connection to the Force,” Urtus said, straightening and meeting Anakin’s gaze for the first time. “The planet responds to him, already.” Anakin figured he’d have to take Urtus’ word for that.

And Anakin knew damn well there was no way Obi-Wan was actually going to  _ decline _ . He’d be full of concern about the fate of the planet and the safety of these people and if it meant him getting fucked on an altar to set things to rights, then so be it. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Obi-Wan said, “Of course, I will assist in any way I can.”

Urtus sagged with relief. Anakin felt the emotion vibrating through the rest of the crowd, and fine, he supposed they could make this work. He could help and they’d just get this over with, and-- Urtus said, “We will prepare you and arrange the melee immediately, then.”

The back of Anakin’s neck prickled, even as Obi-Wan asked, “Melee?”

Urtus nodded. “Indeed. To determine who shall have the right to assist you. So you may remove winter’s veil and bring the spring.”

Anakin tightened his grip on Obi-Wan’s arm; he felt Obi-Wan’s emotions shift, some hint of worry entering his feelings for the first time. None of it came through in Obi-Wan’s tone when he said, “Surely, I select who has the...right?”

Urtus shook his heavy head, making a deep humming sound. “No. It must be whoever is touched most deeply by winter, as decided by the Force,” he said, “it has ever been thus.”

Anakin looked over the crowd in the room. He  _ really  _ disliked the way they were eying Obi-Wan, and wondered, if he picked Obi-Wan up and bolted, what his odds were of getting to the ship. Probably not high, if Obi-Wan decided to fight him. Which he almost certainly would.

Anakin blew out a breath, instead, and said, “Is  _ anyone  _ allowed to join this melee, then?” Because, kriff, if it was a fight they wanted… Well. He was more than happy to give it to them.

# 

In the end, the Tuls were agreeable to the idea of Anakin joining the melee. He had no idea what they meant by ‘touched by winter’ and he didn’t really care. He was taken to a chamber to prepare with all the rest of the entrants, while Obi-Wan was spirited off elsewhere. They were only to use weapons with blunted edges, apparently, but that was fine. Anakin had long ago learned how to fight with whatever was to hand.

He cracked his neck side to side, selected a weapon that fitted his hand, and waited, ignoring the chatter around the rest of the room.

It seemed to take an age and a half before the doors were opened again and they were led out, across a frozen expanse of ground, and into a small entryway, directly into the earth. It was dark inside, and warmer. There were steps, leading down, and Anakin followed the figure in front of him, flexing his fingers in and out until they, finally, reached the bottom.

They were… in a large, open space, ringed with seats stretching upward, many of them filled. The walls glowed, faintly. Anakin barely noticed any of that, because, in the center of the… well, the arena, there was a familiar figure.

Someone had taken Obi-Wan’s tunics and left him wearing…pieces of white fabric, tied in bands around his body. His eyes and mouth were both wrapped. There were more bindings around his arms and hands. He was standing in front of a tall lump of stone. Anakin assumed, with a hot lurch of his gut, that this was the altar.

Which meant the Tuls fully expected someone to fuck Obi-Wan right there in the center of this arena and, well. There was no way Anakin was going to let anyone else touch him. He took a breath, adjusted his grip on his weapon, and waited while Urtus made some kind of speech that he didn’t care about.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for the moment when the melee started, and then springing into action. The Tuls were determined, he had to give them that. And they seemed to have decided that they didn’t actually care who won the right, as long as it wasn’t  _ him _ .

They swarmed him, and Anakin snarled. Even with numbers, they were not a match, and he knew it. They had not a fraction of the practice and experience he’d gained, and he knocked them aside, one after another.

One  _ almost _ cracked him over the back of the head with a cudgel, only to slip on nothing a moment before the blow could land, falling into one of his fellows, instead, and Anakin half-laughed at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s presence against his skin.

The Tuls woman in front of him balked at his laughter, and Anakin took the opportunity to elbow her in the gut, listening to the sound she made as she folded up, flinging himself back into the fight. There was no real strategy to it, it was nothing but a brawl, fierce and vicious, devolving, finally, into a bare knuckled scrap between the last contenders.

Anakin had something of an advantage in that area, and grinned fiercely at the sound his fist made hitting the jaw of the last Tuls standing between him and Obi-Wan. The man had a half a head of height on Anakin, but went over backwards with a satisfying thump.

Anakin stood, for a moment, in the midst of the groaning fallen, breathing hard. His clothes were torn and bloody, he noted. He throbbed from a dozen different places, wounds aching. He tasted copper on his tongue and turned his head to the side, spitting, even as drums started around the room.

He distantly remembered being told about the drums, and grinned, because they meant he’d  _ won _ .

He met Urtus’ eyes across the arena, nodded, and stalked towards the center of the space. Obi-Wan hadn’t moved, standing there still as a statue. There were, Anakin noticed, as he got closer, clothes wrapped around his knees and ankles, too. His feet were bare on the stone and there were strange tendrils of light winding away from him, out through the stone.

Anakin decided he didn’t care about the light, right at that moment. His blood burned in his veins, his gut full of fire from the battle. He was already hard, when he stopped in front of Obi-Wan and reached out, grabbing the wrap around his eyes and pulling it away.

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, so clear and blue, and did not look surprised to find Anakin before him. Anakin grabbed the wrap over his mouth, hoping he was doing an adequate job removing winter’s veil, and Obi-Wan said, quietly, something tense in his expression, just for a moment, “I knew it would be you.”

Anakin shivered and could not stop himself from sliding a hand back into Obi-Wan’s hair and leaning closer, kissing his mouth, aware he was leaving smears of blood behind and - and  _ liking it _ , liking the way it marked Obi-Wan’s clean, perfect skin. “I think I had some help,” he murmured, against Obi-Wan’s mouth, and felt Obi-Wan smile.

“Maybe a little,” Obi-Wan agreed, and Anakin kissed him again, pleased to know it had been him Obi-Wan wanted with him, here in the middle of an arena, here at this crude altar.

It made his pulse beat faster, instructions for what he was supposed to do jumbling together in his head. The Tuls had been specific about some things, but it was hard to focus on what they’d wanted. He’d needed to - to take Obi-Wan out of these bindings, definitely. 

Anakin could do that, He kept one hand in Obi-Wan’s hair, aware of all the eyes on them. He expected a prickle of anxiety across his nerves, he even anticipated, in a flash of worry, that he would not be able to maintain his current state of interest, not while knowing so many people were  _ watching _ .

But these people had thought they could have Obi-Wan. Thought they could just use him for their ritual. And he, abruptly, quite liked the idea of showing them all just how wrong they were. He slid his mouth to Obi-Wan’s neck, nipping at the skin and then sucking, hearing Obi-Wan make a loud, surprised sound.

He slid his other hand down, tearing at the white wrappings, careless and rough. He just wanted them  _ off _ . 

“The altar,” Obi-Wan ground out, his hands freed to come up, to grip at Anakin, pulling him closer. “We need to--the stone is Force-reactive, we need to be on--”

Anakin got the idea. The altar was the size of a large table, rising directly out of the floor. It came up to his thighs, he noted, even as he pulled the last of the wrappings away, grabbed Obi-Wan’s thighs, and lifted him. 

The stone lit up beneath Obi-Wan, when Anakin turned and put him down on the altar. Veins of color shot through it, so bright they were almost blinding. A murmur went up through the crowd, relief and joy, but Anakin barely noted it. 

Obi-Wan lit up, as well, and that was far more interesting. Trails of light stretched under his skin,  _ glowing _ . He looked like something out of a dream, something magical. But then, he always had. Anakin groaned and crawled onto the altar, falling forward to kiss him, hands all over his skin, warm and soft and perfect.

He left behind smears of blood, marks that showed where he’d touched, and groaned at the sight of it. Everyone on Tuls had wanted Obi-Wan, but he was the only one who got to have this, the only one who got to touch, and he wanted, suddenly and fiercely, for them all to know it.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted, tugging at the closures on Anakin’s tunics. They were hanging off of him already, and Anakin yanked the outer tunic off, tossing it aside. He cared little about the under tunic; it wasn’t in his way. He slid a hand down, curled his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, and watched the light beneath him shift, spreading away from the altar, out across the arena.

Obi-Wan’s hands clenched at his belt. He made a sound, thick and pleasure-drunk, as Anakin stroked him, setting a fast, brutal pace. He had not patience within him, at the moment, he just  _ wanted _ . Wanted to watch Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter, wanted everyone in the arena to  _ see _ what he got to do.

He bent forward, kissing Obi-Wan deep and filthy, the drums pounding around them, almost drowning out the sound Obi-Wan made when he spilled all over Anakin’s fingers. 

“Force,” Obi-Wan panted, and Anakin grinned, rubbing his fingers together and considering. They’d not given him anything to ease the way. He shrugged, decided to make do, and slid his fingers back, between Obi-Wan’s legs.

He found Obi-Wan slick already, slick enough to slide two fingers in at once, and the revelation punched a groan out of him. “I thought,” Obi-wan gasped, deliciously flushed and  _ glowing _ , “I’d better, ah, be ready.”

Anakin nodded. He felt quite beyond words, aching with so much want it felt hard to think. He wanted, so badly, to stretch out over Obi-Wan like this, to touch his glowing skin and let all the Tuls see how good he could make Obi-Wan feel, show them his beauty, the light of him--

The Tuls had warned them both that they might be...affected by the ritual. Anakin was willing to blame the hot jump of his pulse on whatever the kriff the Force was currently doing, whatever was making Obi-Wan light up, the glow off of his skin chasing away all the shadows in Anakin’s head, leaving him… singularly focused.

The urge to  _ make  _ everyone see swallowed him. Anakin took another kiss, hard, and then rocked onto his heels, batting Obi-Wan’s hands away - he’d gotten Anakin’s slacks open, that was more than good enough - and gripped at Obi-Wan’s hip.

Obi-Wan made a thick sound, surprised, when Anakin dragged his fingers out. His gasped beautifully, his skin all aglow, brighter spots of light at his freckles. Anakin ran a hand over his chest, awed, and then settled his hands, pulling Obi-Wan’s hips just so, gripping  _ tight _ .

He heard the sound Obi-Wan made over the drums when he pushed  _ in _ . Around them, the light started picking up colors, purples and pinks and blues, greens, spreading around the room, spreading across Obi-Wan’s skin, like an aurora, a celestial event, right in front of him.

Anakin jolted at the feeling of being in him. It was always amazing; he could have happily fucked Obi-Wan for the rest of his life, but-- Sinking into him on the altar felt like something else, the sensation spreading out to each nerve, clearing his head, leaving nothing but want and need and desire behind.

Anakin  _ needed  _ to fuck him, needed to drive into him, needing to make him gasp and cry out. Anakin gripped him, hard, keeping a hold on him, knowing he was leaving marks behind and - and  _ liking it _ . He wanted marks, his marks, all over Obi-Wan’s skin, wanted everyone on Tuls and all the other worlds in the galaxy to  _ know _ that Obi-Wan was--

Obi-Wan’s trembled, light spreading out from him, through the stone, the colors getting brighter, sharper. And Anakin wanted everyone to see, deeply. Force, he loved the way Obi-Wan looked when he was getting fucked, loved the way Obi-Wan’s mouth got soft, the way he flushed all across his cheeks and down his throat.

Every inch of him was beautiful, and Anakin groaned, driving into him as the light curled and flowed around them. He wished he had another hand, to curl around Obi-Wan’s cock, and in that moment saw no reason not to utilize the Force.

Obi-Wan jerked, full-bodied, when Anakin curled tendrils of the Force against his skin, pressure and sensation. Anakin thought he heard his name - it was hard to tell, the drums had gotten louder and his blood was pounding in his ears - and he took it as encouragement.

It  _ felt  _ like encouragement, through Obi-Wan’s emotions, overspilling into Anakin’s head.

He touched and touched and groaned when he felt Obi-Wan quake, come spilling across their skin and the altar and--and something shifted in the air around them, in the presence of the Force through the room. Anakin felt like lightning grounded down through his spine, pleasure and primal want swimming up through him.

He lost himself, for a moment, aware of nothing but pleasure, but needing to fuck into Obi-Wan, desperately, but the sheer joy of spilling within him. Anakin groaned, cock pulsing, and slumped forward, over Obi-Wan’s glowing form.

He held Obi-Wan - almost limp - and buried his face against Obi-Wan’s throat. He sucked hungry kisses against the skin, wanting to leave more marks, wanting to stain the pale flesh, wanting to leave no room for doubt that Obi-Wan was--

Was breathing shakily, trembles moving through him.

Anakin swallowed, hard, wrestling back control of all his riotous wants. He was aware, distantly, of cheering and the brilliant lights filling the chamber. But that all felt far away as he stroked a hand comfortingly across Obi-Wan’s stomach, pressing softer kisses to his skin, and holding him, there on the altar.

He managed to ask, as he got his breath back, “You think that did it?”

Obi-Wan laughed, tilting his head further to the side in what Anakin took as an invitation, and said, “Darling, you may have overshot us right into summer.”


End file.
